


Didn't Catch My Bloody Nose or the Way My Heart Tried to Explode

by talkativelock



Series: If I Were You I'd Fall In Love With Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Destiel - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Unbeta'd, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-04 08:55:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/708904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talkativelock/pseuds/talkativelock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the apocalypse. Castiel Winchester has already lost Dean, the strangely human angel who managed to grow very important to him in a very short time. Or has he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Swear I Didn't Mean For It to Feel Like This

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back by request with part two. Spoilers through 5x14 in chapter one.

Castiel shook off the disturbing news that, yes, Sam's eyes had turned black and he'd nearly become impossible to distinguish from a demon when he was fighting Lilith. He cut in and asked the question that had been weighing on his mind since they appeared in that airplane.

“Where's Dean?”

Chuck swallowed. “He's gone, man, I'm so sorry.”

Castiel clamped down on the painful feeling in his chest as Chuck confirmed, after Sam asked for details, that the blood and guts on the walls was, in fact, all that remained of Dean. He closed his eyes, giving himself five seconds to come to terms with the death of the only good angel, the only human angel.

“Dean...” He whispered, like a prayer to no one. He got himself under control, keeping it locked down.

Then Chuck plucked one of Dean's molars from his hair and Castiel almost choked on air.

He felt a little better when he banished Zachariah and his subordinates with the symbol Dean had painted in the angelic holding cell.

“I learned that from Dean.” He spat, even though they couldn't hear him anymore.

…

Life was going from bad to worse. It really was the apocalypse.

“Just kill us.” Castiel said, clutching the pain in his stomach and watching in horror as Sam gasped for air. Zachariah smirked shaking his head.

“You will say yes.”

And then, suddenly, everything was Dean. Zachariah's followers, the other angels, were on the floor with the shadow of wings burned to the ground on each side of their corpses. Dean stood tall, all six feet of him. He looked exactly the same, same dark gray coat over plaid over black. Same dark wash jeans and hiking boots. Same otherworldly green eyes. It was Dean, back from Chuck's walls.

He had a dangerous grin on his face and a strange silver blade in his hand.

“How are you-?” Zachariah started, but Dean didn't let him finish.

“Alive? I don't know. I'm just too pretty to die, I guess. Someone upstairs thought I should pay you a visit, and I think we both know who. Does that scare you?”

Zachariah gaped like a fish. “It's not possible.”

“Fix 'em up, ugly, and then get lost. I won't ask twice.”

For a moment it was as though Castiel was the one without lungs. Dean's eyes had fire in them, power rolling off his body in waves. He hadn't even spared the Winchesters a glance yet and in the back of his mind Castiel screamed for Dean to look at him.

Zachariah sneered, then vanished. With him went the pain. When Castiel looked at his brother he saw that Sam was standing back up perfectly healed, his hazel eyes fixed on Dean. There was a sloppy grin on his face. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief and then turned to Dean.

Dean's green eyes were on him. “You two need to be more careful.”

“Yes.” Castiel breathed, because there was nothing else to say.

Dean looked away then, a light frown coming to his face. “Lucifer's out and he's looking for a vessel. When he gets one those hex bags won't be enough to protect you.” Dean was talking almost to himself. He seemed to come to his own conclusion. Suddenly he was between them, in both the Winchester's personal space, and a warm hand was pressed to Castiel's chest.

There was a sharp jolt of pain, like Castiel's ribs had broken and mended at the same time, and when Dean stepped away Castiel was out of breath.

“What was that?” Sam asked, also panting. He had one hand pushed to his chest where Dean had touched him.

Dean looked proud. “Handy little spell. I just wrote it on your ribs. No one can find you now, not Lucifer, not Zachariah, and not me.”

There was a moment of silence as they tried to digest that information. Then Sam, always full of questions, was back on track.

“Hey, Dean, were you really dead?”

Dean pulled a face, as though he smelled something rotten. “Yeah, I guess.”

“They how are you here right now?”

The face Dean was making got worse, as though the rot was shoved in his face, and then he was gone.

…

“Hello? Dean?”

Castiel whipped around. He hadn't expected Dean to call with a cell phone, much less to call Sam. He was bent over an image of his own ribs, Dean's handwriting in a language he had never seen before staring back at him.

“Why?” For a moment Castiel imagined he could hear Dean's voice through the speaker, even though he was too far away to pick out the words. “St. Martin's Hospital.” Another pause in which Sam turned to look at Castiel. “Yeah, he's here. What do you-?”

Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, looking down at it in shock. “He hung up on me.”

Then Dean walked through the door, moving like a man on a mission. He closed the door behind him quickly, face stormy.

“I think I hate hospitals.” He said by way of greeting.

Castiel stared at Dean. “A cell phone?” He blurted, not sure why he had asked. At that Dean perked up.

“Hell yeah! I even bought ring-tones. Hey, Sam, call me right now.”

“I don't-”

“Shut up and get healing.” Bobby demanded, cutting of Sam. Dean stared at him, his expression shutting down into something like regret.

“I can't.”

“What?”

“I'm cut off from heaven. They didn't like the stunt I pulled earlier, so I'm running on reserves right now.” Dean wasn't looking at Bobby anymore. He wasn't looking at anyone. Instead he was staring at the wall as though posters on the parts of the skeletal system were the most interesting thing in the world.

Bobby nearly growled. “Oh, that's just fantastic. Just in time for me to be stuck in this death trap.” Bobby hit the wheel of his wheelchair hard enough for it to clank in protest.

Dean winced, looking at the floor. “I'm sorry, man.”

“Shove it.”

Sam sighed, elbowing Castiel. “At least he's talking now.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.

“I heard that.” Bobby spat, turning back to the window.

“Cas, we need to talk.” Dean finally looked at Castiel. He looked like he was willing to beg. It was almost disturbing. For a wild moment Castiel wondered if Dean had been brought back different than before.

“Go ahead.” He said, mostly to make that desperate look go away.

“I'm going to find God.” Dean told them, grinning.

“God.” Sam sounded as if he wasn't sure what to make of Dean's mission.

“The one and only.”

“Try New Mexico.” Sam offered.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha, you're a riot Sammy. This is serious.”

Castiel bit his lip. Dean seemed so sure that he could find God. Castiel felt like it was a waste of time. But how do you break that to an angel?

“Dean, I don't think you'll find Him. If He wanted to help He would be here.”

Dean snapped his green eyes to Castiel, glaring. Just the look in them burned Castiel, like Dean's anger was setting fire to his blood. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end with the angel's wrath.

“Yeah, well, it's a better plan then anything you've got going for you so forgive me for taking matters into my own hands. The angels are gonna kill me, Cas. I betrayed them for you, I killed my siblings for you. You still broke the world.” Both the Winchesters flinched and Dean's eyes softened. “This is the best plan any of us have got.”

“So why aren't you flying around looking for God?” Bobby growled from the corner. Castiel was thankful for Bobby's interference. He didn't know if he could make his throat work.

In an instant Dean was embarrassed again. “I need a special amulet. It burns in the presence of God, kinda like a God EMF.”

“We don't have anything like that.” Sam pointed out.

Dean licked his lips, his eyes on Castiel. The motion made Castiel's heartbeat pick up. “Actually, you do.” Then his eyes dropped to the amulet Sam had given him when they were kids.

“No.” Castiel said, voice flat.

Dean looked back up to Castiel's eyes, his expression pleading again. “Please, Cas? It's our only hope.”

Castiel turned away and walked a few paces, putting distance between himself and Dean. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of a reason besides 'I don't want to it's mine'. He couldn't find one. Carefully, he reached to his neck and pulled the amulet off. Without it hanging on his neck he almost felt naked.

“Promise not to lose it?” He asked irrationally, glancing over his shoulder at Dean. The angel mimed crossing his heart.

“I swear, Cas.”

He handed it over and the angel slipped it over his head. It looked oddly right on Dean. Castiel's stomach did somersaults as Dean met his eyes and gave him a soft smile.

“I'll be around.”

Then, before Castiel could respond, the angel was gone.

…

Okay, so maybe Dean liked to try and land as close as possible to Cas in an attempt to startle him. It had nothing to do with how intoxicating Cas's presence was at all.

Unfortunately, Cas didn't even jump when he saw Dean in the mirror.

“Hello, Dean.” He said when their eyes locked in the reflective glass. His rough voice saying the angel's name made Dean's grace tingle.

“Hey.” He glanced out the door of the bathroom and swept it for the usual giant human presence. “Where's Sam?”

Cas frowned, turning around to face Dean. Dean hadn't realized how close he had gotten, they were maybe half a foot away from each other. Cas had to tilt his head back just slightly to look in Dean's eyes.

“We've separated for now.” Something about them being alone made Dean's grace shiver. Cas was going to be the death of him. Again. He had to force himself to focus on Cas's next words. “Have you found God?”

Dean found that his vessel's eyes were tracking Cas's lips as he spoke. He cleared his throat and forced himself to look Cas in those deep blue eyes. He was fucked. Could an angel even be fucked?

“No. Dad's a tricky bastard. I need your help with something else though.”

Dean swore he imagined Cas's eyes glancing down to his lips and back up. “What is it?”

Cas's voice was impossibly rougher and Dean realized they were both talking in low voices. He took the opportunity to step away, ignoring the lack of warmth as he headed into the hotel room and over to the mini-bar. He pulled out a beer to give himself something to do with his hands.

“Raphael, the archangel who killed me. He's been hanging around on Earth. I think I can get some info out of him.”

 “You want to interrogate him?”

“Yup.” Dean forced himself to be cheerful.

Cas tilted his head to the side in a way that reminded Dean was too much of his brothers and sisters. “Why should I help you?”

“You're Michael's vessel. You've got angelic immunity.”

“I'm your shield.” Cas said flatly. Asking for help really wasn't going the way Dean wanted it to.

“But also my buddy.” He shot Cas a thumbs up. Cas did not look impressed.

…

Castiel was not pleased when he found out Dean expected to die when facing off against Raphael. Then there was Raphael's vessel, a catatonic drooling mess that according to Dean 'paled in comparison to how fucked Cas was going to be'. Needless to say, he thought the entire trip was going terribly. Dean deciding he wanted to spend his last night alive in a brothel was just the cherry on top.

It wasn't that Castiel had never had sex, it was more that Castiel wasn't comfortable with paying for it. Dean, however, seemed to get his kicks out of the idea of it. He was like a kid on Christmas morning, practically bouncing in his seat as he sipped his beer and leered at practically every woman who walked by. Castiel was uncomfortable, though he tried not to show it.

“Come on, relax Cas.” Dean gave him an easy grin and Castiel reflected on how strange it was that an angel of the lord was more comfortable in a whore house than a human.

“Should an angel be here?”

Dean shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Castiel felt like it should, but he didn't say it out loud. He looked away, instead, watching the hookers amble through the area to grab potential customers.

Dean leaned foreword, one of his feet tapping Castiel's to get his attention. Castiel met his eyes and Dean gave him a full grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners and everything.

“Lighten up. I rebelled, I should get a chance to see what for before I go up in smoke.”

“But does it have to be hookers?” Castiel said before he could stop himself. He hoped Dean didn't pick up on the almost accusing note of his voice. Castiel tried not to think about why he felt betrayed.

Dean went quiet, almost as though he was contemplating something. He stopped moving and for a moment, with his expression pensive and his body still, he almost looked like the other angels. After a moment of though Dean spoke slowly, as though he was testing every word before it came out of his mouth. He met Castiel's eyes and the hunter could have sworn the angel's were glowing.

“Is there something else you'd rather be doing, Cas?”

Castiel's mouth went dry and he found he couldn't answer. He couldn't even look away. He was suspended in time with an angel in a brothel. His life was so far off normal it was difficult to comprehend.

Dean broke the moment by looking away first to order another beer from a nearby waitress. He hadn't even noticed Dean had finished his drink.

Castiel didn't know if he was thankful or not that Dean never actually purchased a hooker that night.

…

Raphael blacked out the entire eastern seaboard. Castiel didn't like him.

“Dean.”

“Raph. How's it going? Did you miss me?”

“I always knew you were an abomination.”

“Are we name calling now?”

“It is a testament to my mercy that I don't smite you now.”

“That or you're scared that God'll just bring me back and smite your ass. This is Cas, by the way.”

Castiel wasn't sure he wanted to be introduced. Raphael turned to him, a cruel smile on his face. “I know. And now I know where he is.”

“You won't kill me.” Castiel said with more confidence than he felt.

"No, but I will take you to Michael.”

Dean made a sound deep in his throat like thunder. “You won't go near him.” Then he flicked open a lighter he seemed to have pulled from no where and dropped it on the ring of holy oil. The ring of fire sprang to life. Raphael's expression grew uglier.

“Where's Dad?” Dean demanded.

Raphael sneered. “He's dead, you pathetic excuse for an angel. Or haven't you heard?”

…

Dean had vanished after the conversation with Raphael, probably to digest the information, but Castiel expected him to come back. It really didn't surprise him when his phone went off and Dean was on the other end.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

“I've got some info on the Colt, if you're still planning on using it to kill the devil.”

Castiel frowned. “Where did you get this information?” He could almost hear Dean shrug.

“Most demons are easy to manipulate.”

Castiel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired, a day full of driving leaving his temper short. “Alright, where do we start?”

“Where are you?”

“Kansas City, Century Motel.”

“On my way.”

“Wait, Dean.” Castiel sighed. “I'm tired. Can we talk in the morning?”

“Seriously?” Dean sounded incredulous. “End of the world and you're worried about sleep.”

“I'm human.” He reminded the angel.

“Fine, fine. Whatever. You get your beauty sleep, I'll be there in the morning.”

The relief Castiel felt should not have been so strong, but last time he'd been alone with the angel he'd felt like his heart was trying to escape his chest. He didn't think he could deal with that on so little sleep.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

The angel had already hung up.

…

Castiel almost hated himself. Future him was a broken, drunk, recluse who only went out when there was the chance he could die on the mission. He was a coward. He made Castiel nauseous.

“Listen,” Cas, as he had demanded to be called, told Castiel between swigs of his homemade liquor, “Dean's gonna hate that I'm telling you this, but if you ever get back to oh nine you need to say yes. Don't tell Dean you're gonna do it, just do it. It'll be better for everyone.”

Dean's message for him to take back in time managed to be worse and better.

“Don't let me fall in love with you, Cas.” Dean sounded hallowed out. He cleaned a rifle methodically while he talked. “I know it sounds stupid now, maybe even impossible, but it happens. Don't let it. If you push me away then maybe I won't fall for you. Maybe I'll still be an angel.”

Castiel couldn't breath in to give the fallen angel an answer.

…

He felt sick. Seeing himself and Dean both dead, Dean giving his life to give a broken Cas a chance to shoot Sam with the colt, was probably the worst possible thing that could have happened. Zachariah was right about one thing, that future couldn't be allowed to happen.

Castiel threw up on the pavement the moment he was away from Zachariah.

“Dude, gross.”

He retched again. A hand came to rest on his back.

“You okay, Cas?”

A thrill went up his spine at Dean's touch. He remembered the fallen angel with the emotionless face, willing to follow Cas in his suicidal quest, asking him to stop Dean from falling in more ways than one. He shoved his Dean away with one hand, retching once more before getting control of his stomach.

“That's nasty.”

“Yes.” He managed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

 “Oh, gross. Don't do that.”

 Castiel couldn't help the amusement. He glanced at the angel to see his face screwed up in disgust.

“You have good timing.” Castiel managed.

Dean's face relaxed slightly. “It's a gift.”

Castiel felt uncomfortable meeting Dean's eyes, so he looked around instead. They were on a country road. There was no one to be seen.

“Where are we?”

“Illinois. How did Zach find you anyway.”

Castiel grimaced. “A street preacher.”

 “Damn, that's sneaky.”

Castiel's heart was slowing. The Dean and Cas from 2014 were starting to seem like a dream, something Zachariah had created. Castiel didn't believe that was the future, not really, and yet he still had trouble looking directly at the angel.

“Dude, you okay?”

Castiel nodded, pulling out his phone and speed dialing Sam. “Yes, I just need a minute.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Sure, whatever, it's not like I just saved your life or anything.”

…

Castiel had never been more glad to see Dean. He really didn't like the idea of getting hit in the balls and if anyone could get them out of there it was an angel.

“I've been looking everywhere for you guys. You've been missing for days, not answering your phones. I thought you were dead.”

“Get us out of here, then.” Sam cried, still clutching himself in pain.

Dean reached for them but vanished in a bust of static before he could fly them out. The game show host gave Castiel a severe look. 

“Mr. Trickster does not like pretty boy angels.”

…

Dean felt like he had ripped through the gates of hell, again, when he finally crashed into the room holding the Winchesters.

“Dean?” Sam asked, his expression one of open shock.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean groaned, allowing himself to lean on the counter. It felt real under his vessel's fingers, but his angelic senses told him something wasn't right.

“Where did you go?” Cas asked, moving to support Dean. His face was full of concern and Dean felt almost light headed. He was starting to think Cas was avoiding him, not meeting his eyes and not answering his phone, yet Cas was looking him in the face now.

“It doesn't matter. This thing is too powerful to be a trickster. We have to get out of here.”

Wrinkles appeared between Cas's eyebrows as his face crumpled in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Before Dean could answer he was flung across the room, his lips sealed, and the archangel Gabriel walked in to the pleasure of the invisible crowd.

There were not enough curses in the world to describe the shit they were in.

“Hey, Dean!” Gabriel waved. Dean glared at the archangel as hard as he could. It didn't phase Gabriel. With a gesture from the archangel the room, including the Winchesters, was gone.

…

“First return Dean.” Castiel demanded. Gabriel, because it was the archangel who had been screwing with them the entire time, rolled his eyes.

“Why should I do that?”

“If you don't we'll grab some more holy oil and deep fry ourselves an archangel.” Sam threatened. Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes with almost too much drama. He snapped his fingers and Dean appeared. The angel fell over as soon as he landed with a grunt.

Castiel grabbed him to help haul the angel to his feet. “Dean, are you alright?”

“I'm fine, Cas, I'm fine.” Dean said, pushing him off. He brushed his jeans down, not meeting Castiel's eyes. Instead he glared at Gabriel. “Look who decided to not be dead.”

Gabriel shrugged in response, changing the subject. “How's the search for Daddy going, Dean-o? Let me guess; awful.”

“Can it, you big coward. At least I'm trying.”

Castiel couldn't stop himself from grinning. Gabriel turned to him.

“You better watch your boyfriends mouth before I blow him up again.”

Dean sputtered. Castiel felt his face grow warm.

“Okay, we're out of here.” Sam said, grabbing the sleeve of Castiel's trench coat and pulling him along behind him. Dean followed more slowly. When Castiel glanced back at him the angel didn't meet his eyes.

“What? You're just gonna leave me here forever?” Gabriel called after them.

Castiel turned around at the door to see that Dean was already gone.

“No.” Castiel said simply, pulling the fire alarm harder than was necessary on the way out.

…

Dean was pretending that everything was fine between himself and his charge. It was not going well, especially with Cas's voice in his ear. Through the phone the sound of it was distorted, but that only helped so much. Small miracles, he supposed.

“Is it going down?”

Dean nearly laughed out loud, which would have ruined his hiding and stalking routine. He breathed deeply to keep the laughter from bubbling up and peeked around the concrete support he was hiding behind. Crowley was letting the business man pull violently away from the kiss he had practically forced on him.

“Yeah, okay Huggy Bear, sure. It's 'going down'.”

“Don't lose him, Dean.”

He huffed and pretended to be insulted. “Who do you think I am?”

“You are Dean, a somewhat diminished angel of the lord.”

Dean almost groaned. “Yeah, way to rub it in Cas.”

He could hear Sam say something to Cas on the other end, though with the cell phone he couldn't tell what it was. He peeked around the support again. Crowley was preparing for flight, the business man gone, he could feel it with his grace. Crowley took off and Dean hurried to follow.

Dean landed outside a mansion covered in Enochian script designed to keep angels out.

“Son of a bitch. He's got angel proofing mojo all over this place.” He said, interrupting Cas's conversation with Sam.

“That won't be a problem. We'll take it from here.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Dean rolled his eyes. He was gone before the Winchesters arrived.

…

Castiel hadn't expected to see Dean at Bobby's when they got back with the colt. He was all smiles, drinking through most of Ellen's good alcohol without so much as a buzz. Jo was enamored. Ellen was impressed. Bobby was an approving type of grouchy. Sam was entertained. Castiel was going to go drown himself in the bathtub upstairs.

It was probably the moment when Dean winked at Jo and said “I think I might be starting to feel something, if you know what I mean.” after downing five shorts in a row without blinking that Castiel realized he may have fallen in love with an angel. It was also the moment he decided he'd rather try to talk Sam into sitting the upcoming battle with Lucifer out then stay in the same room as Dean.

Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do to keep Sam away from the battle and his brother eventually managed to bring the conversation back to Dean.

“Talk about stupid ideas.” He said with a gesture at how Ellen and Jo were failing to get Dean drunk.

Castiel spared them a glance. His stomach clenched at the way the corners of Dean's eyes were crinkling as he gave Jo a wide smile.

“Yes.” He managed, standing quickly. Sam gave him a strange look, but he payed it no mind. He moved to the fridge, walking right past Jo and Dean.

“So, Jo, dangerous mission tomorrow.” Dean was saying.

“Are you giving me the last-night-on-earth speech?” Jo asked, sounding amused. Castiel almost tripped.

“Sure, whatever that is.”

Jo laughed again at that and Castiel very carefully didn't look to see if they were touching. How an angel could be so good with people when Castiel, a human, would trip over his own feet trying to ask Jo out was beyond him.

“I'm not going to have sex with you tonight, angel.” Jo's voice was fond. “Ask me again after we kill the devil.”

Dean laughed. It wasn't an uncomfortable laugh, it was an easy laugh. Almost like the ones Dean used to have when he first came to Earth.

"Everybody get in here! It's time for the lineup. Usual suspects in the corner.” Bobby called from the main room. Castiel jumped. He had forgotten there were things other then pretending to look for something in the fridge and listening to Dean and Jo's conversation.

“No on wants their picture taken.” Ellen whined as Castiel shut the fridge.

“Hear, hear!” Sam called and Castiel made this mistake of meeting the angel's eyes across the kitchen. Dean just cocked an eyebrow and let Jo tug him into the main room. Castiel wanted to scream, but he followed calmly instead.

“Shut up, you're drinking my beer.” Bobby was grumbling as Castiel walked in.

Dean had wrapped one arm around Jo and one arm around Ellen, grinning at the camera Bobby had just set up. Sam stood behind him and he gestured for Castiel to join them. Castiel took his place next to his brother, the giant of a man resting his hand on his shoulder.

“Anyway,” Bobby continued, still fiddling with the camera. It was probably an excuse to not look at them. “I'm gonna need something to remember your sorry asses by.”

Ellen laughed. “What an optimist.” She teased as Bobby wheeled himself in position.

“He's right. Tomorrow we hunt the devil. This is our last night on Earth.” Castiel's sour mood poured out of him before he could stop it. The words came out bitter.

That was when the camera went off.

…

Dean was missing, there were hellhounds, Castiel didn't know how the mission could get worse. Except it did.

…

Dean hated the fact that he couldn't even get rid of a demon. He was losing his power, slowly trickling out through his grace until he didn't deserve to call it a grace anymore. Naturally, that made him a little vindictive. Using a demon as a holy-fire bridge? Perfect.

Lucifer's grace was terribly beautiful, huge and brimming with power. Dean bet that whoever was alive would be with him. Without missing a moment he took flight, landing nearly on top of Cas. Lucifer was distracted, looking to the pit where waves of power were coming from. Death was arriving. Dean flinched when another pulse radiated from the pit. He grabbed Sam and Cas, he didn't see anyone else there and he tried not to think about what that meant, and he hightailed it out of there.

…

If Cas had been less than pleased when he'd called to question Dean about Anna then he was absolutely furious that Dean wouldn't let Cas go with him. The fact that Dean's instincts were right did nothing to improve his human's mood and where did that come from? He was too far gone already if he was calling Cas his. He might have been too far gone when he raised Cas from hell.

 “So this plan to kill me, would it actually stop satan?” Sam cut in with wide eyes, self-sacrifice and guilt rolling off him in waves.

“No, Sam.” Cas sounded firm and it was a testament to how well Dean had gotten to know the human that he could hear the desperation in Cas's tone.

Sam ignored his brother, focusing only on Dean. “Dean? Does Anna have a point?”

Dean couldn't help but glance at Cas. Cas's eyes begged him to say no even though there was a chance that spreading Sam's atoms all over the universe would stop Lucifer from having a true vessel. Dean didn't even consider telling the truth.

“No, Sammy. She's gone all Glenn Close. Don't worry about it.”

Sam backed down and Dean risked looking at Cas again. He was rewarded by the expression on his human's face. The gratitude and appreciation reflected in his gaze made a pressure lift off Dean's grace that he didn't even know was there.

He cleared his throat and looked away from Cas before he got lost in those haunting blue eyes and fucked up the ritual. “We've gotta kill her before she gets to Sam. She won't give up until he's dead.”

…

Castiel suppressed a shiver when Dean started talking in Enochian. It sounded ancient and powerful, the strength apparent in every syllable Dean uttered. Then the bowl Dean had been combining ingredients in burst into flame fore barely a second. Dean stumbled back from the table as the fire died, eyes closed and breathing heavily. He looked as if he had just run a marathon, his face suddenly flushed.

Castiel made to take a step foreword, maybe to steady the angel, when Dean's green eyes flew open and found his. They appeared to be glowing again and the way he panted made heat shoot through Castiel's body. Castiel swallowed with an audible click.

“I've found her.” Dean said, his voice rough and low. Castiel forced himself to focus on the task at hand, the task that would save his little brother's life.

“Where is she?”

Dean took a deep breath, his coloring returning to normal. He straightened up and some of the heat faded from under Castiel's skin. “Not where, when.” His voice had lost some of the roughness and that helped to cool Castiel's blood. “She went to nineteen seventy-eight. She's probably going to try and kill your parents.”

Castiel stared at Dean, because that couldn't be true.

“What?” Sam asked and when Dean looked away to address his brother the last of the heat left Castiel's body with his gaze.

“Anna can't get to you because of me so she's going after your parents.”

Castiel licked his lips. “Take us back now.”

Dean turned back to him but instead of his green eyes lighting up Castiel's insides they just made him feel very small. Dean looked angry.

“And give you right to her? No way. I'm going alone.”

“They're our parents, Dean, we're going.” Sam had the tone of voice that told Castiel that he was getting what he wanted or he would throw a terrible fit. Castiel almost heaved a sigh of relief. Sometimes it was useful to have a brother who doubled in both stubbornness and intelligence.

Dean made a noise of frustration, running a single hand through his hair. “It's not that easy, Sam.”

“Why not?” Sam challanged.

“Time travel was hard even with heaven at my back. That got cut off. I'm telling you, taking this trip alone will be hard but with you guys tagging along I'll be way too weak for comfort.”

“They're our parents, Dean, we have to try.” Castiel tried to be gentle but Dean still looked at him as though he had been punched in the gut.

…

It was a stupid plan and he was going along with it because blue eyes had been so earnest. He was going to expend a lot of grace on time travel all because he was a flawed angel who would do anything for a righteous man. Dean seriously considered just killing himself instead.

“Ready?” He asked grudgingly.

“Not really.” Sam admitted, zipping up a bag full of supplies. Dean scowled in response before touching their foreheads and bending space-time around them.

He could feel the drain on his grace tugging away all the energy he had. It was going faster than it should have, too fast, and he could feel his grace fading. The energy that was everything that he was began to unravel itself to feed the conversion and push the Winchesters through time. He felt himself fading and he realized that he was going to die getting the Winchesters to the seventies.

Son of a bitch.

He had no earthly possessions to will away except the amulet and that was on loan. He hoped Jimmy wouldn't be too put out that he had to live the rest of his life out at the same time as he was born. Maybe he would enjoy it. Jimmy had always been a fan of 80's rock, his vessel had good taste.

He had a fleeting thought that he would have liked to have told Cas that an angel had fallen in love with him before everything faded out. With the last of his strength he gave the Winchesters a final push through time.

He came to with the Winchesters' faces over him, concern lining their expressions.

“Dean, are you all right?” Cas was saying, panic in the lines around his eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey. Take it easy, take it easy.” Sam kept repeating. It was really annoying.

“I'm fine.” He grunted. “I thought I was a goner.”

“Dean.” Cas said, something in his voice almost accusatory. Dean wasn't sure what he had done wrong. Then his vessel rejected him, blood bubbling up in his mouth. Dean spit it out and groaned, letting the world fade to black.

…

Castiel leaned down to grab a beer out of the mini-fridge back in his time, trying not to think about how Michael had left Dean for dead in the seventies, when Sam gasped out the angel's name.

“Dean?”

Castiel turned as quickly as he could to see Sam grabbing Dean as he started to fall.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Sam was saying, a mantra he tended to mutter whenever anyone was helpless. Castiel crossed the room to help hold up Dean before Sam dropped him.

“Dean!” The cry was ripped from his throat without his permission.

“We've got you.” Sam said as Dean sagged into him.

“You made it.” Castiel breathed. Dean turned his head, eyes struggling to fix on Castiel. Castiel felt his heart clench and he gripped Dean's upper arm tighter.

“I don't feel like I did.” Dean groaned. Then his head rolled back and he passed out.

“Shit!” Sam groaned. “Bed?”

Castiel swallowed. “Yes, I believe that would be best.”

They managed to haul him to the hotel bed, laying him down on the mattress. Sam pulled away as soon as his arms weren't full of angel but Castiel couldn't stop himself from hovering. He was close enough that he could see the freckles that almost blended in with Dean's tan skin across the bridge of his nose. He pulled away more slowly than Sam had and when Sam handed him a tumbler of whiskey with a knowing smile on his face Castiel just downed it without comment.

…

Dean may have come running to Cas's call a bit too quickly after his multiple time travel induced near-death experiences, but who could really blame him?

“I'm here.”

“I see that.” Cas said from six inches away, his blue eyes slightly wider than usual.

“I think I'll hang up now.” Dean managed. Cas licked his lips and Dean tracked the motion with his vessel's eyes.

“Yes.” Cas said, his voice somehow rougher than usual.

“Right.” Dean said, feeling more light headed than he probably should. He closed his phone, forcing himself to turn to Sam. The little brother quickly tried to rearrange his expression from delighted and entertained to something more serious but Dean caught him. The fucker.

“What have we got, Sammy?” Dean asked, his voice purposefully light. The expression on Sam's face said that he saw right through Dean's show but Dean didn't care.

“Markings on the heart?” Sam pushed the box towards Dean. Dean grinned at it, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Quite an elaborate valentine here, Sammy, I'm touched.”

Sam rolled his eyes but Dean didn't continue because there was Enochian writing on the organ. He leaned over it.

“Son of a bitch.” He groaned. “This is a cupid's work.”

…

Castiel wasn't hungry, but he ate to keep his strength up anyway.

“So the cupid is here?” He asked before taking another bite of his burger. Some of the juices leaked out and trickled down his chin. Dean's eyes tracked it.

“Yes.” Dean said absentmindedly.

Castiel self-conciously grabbed a napkin and wiped it away, breaking whatever spell Dean had been under. Castiel knew he wasn't the neatest eater but it had never occurred to him that it may bother Dean. The angel's eyes snapped to his, their intensity scorching. For a moment Castiel forgot that they were sitting in a diner with his little brother sitting right next to them. Then Dean's eyes focused on something over Castiel's shoulder and that spell was broken too.

Castiel physically shook himself.

“Right there.” Dean muttered. Then his eyes were back on Castiel's and Castiel felt the scorching heat in them as easily as he felt the warmth of the burger in his hands.

“Meet me in the back room.” Dean said and it sounded more like an invitation for sex than a direction to a rouge angel. Castiel forced himself to swallow. Then Dean was gone. Castiel released a breath he didn't know he was holding.

“That was intense.” Sam said, his voice light as though he was remarking on the weather. “What's with him?”

Castiel shook himself again, setting down his burger and sliding out of the booth.

“Are you coming?” He asked, ignoring his brother's question. Sam just snorted in response.

…

Dean ignored Cas's presence as best he could as he forced the cupid to manifest itself. He didn't know why it was getting harder for him to ignore the way Cas seemed to glow or the way he smelled like whiskey, leather, and sweat or the way his eyes seemed to be bottomless. He only knew that it was dangerous and that he needed to focus.

“Where is he?” Cas asked from behind him, his voice tense, and Dean had an overwhelming urge to kiss the oldest Winchester until he forgot all his worries.

And okay, that was new and not completely unexpected. Dean tampered down the feeling only to have a different, uglier one flare to life in his grace when the cupid picked his Cas up and hugged the life out of him.

“Help!” Cas gasped and Dean's wings flared. Before he could rip Cas from the cupid's grasp the cupid had released him and darted over to Dean.

“And hello to you too!” The cupid said, picking Dean up and rocking him back and forth in a hug.

Dean tampered down his jealously and reminded himself that this was just how the cupids said hello.

 Uh, yeah.” He managed before the cupid was off him and after Sam. Sam put up a fight but the cupid still managed to corner him in a hug. The fact that he was naked only made everything more uncomfortable, but cupids didn't do clothing.

Cas slid up to Dean and Dean managed to stop himself from putting a protective arm around the shorter man. “What's going on?”

“It's how they say hi.”

“I don't like it.”

“No one likes it.”

The cupid turned away from Sam, who looked like he'd just been mentally scarred. Dean would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact that they were facing down a homicidal cupid.

“What can I do for you?”

“Why are you doing this?” Dean demanded.

The cupid frowned. “Doing what?”

“The people you've marked? They're slaughtering each other.”

The cupid was upset at that and Dean felt a chill creep over him. Something wasn't right. “They are?”

“We know you're making people kill each other.” Sam said, still on the offensive.

“What we don't know is why.” Cas added.

 You think that I-I-” With that the cupid started to cry. Dean pushed his face into his hands. Cupids were so fucking emotional.

Sam sounded a little lost when he spoke next. “Should somebody maybe, uh, go talk to him?”

When Dean peeked out from between his fingers he was met with the sight of Cas looking at his brother like he had grown a set of wings and demanded that he say yes to Michael. Dean let out a frustrated sigh, pulling his hands the rest of the way off his face, and turned to the cupid.

“Look, we didn't meat to, you know, hurt your feelings.”

Then he had an armful of cupid and his vessel's feet were no longer touching the ground.

“Love is more than a word to me, you know? I love love. And if that's wrong I don't want to be right!”

Dean thought about Cas, who made a strangled sound as the cupid rocked Dean back and forth, and he patted the cupid's naked back carefully. “Yeah, I think I get it man, it's okay.” He hoped that he would get a reward for his heroic sacrifice. Maybe something like a kiss from Cas. That would be perfect.

The cupid set him down, hiccuping as he did so, and Dean backed away as quickly as possible.

“I was just on my appointed rounds. Whatever my targets do after has nothing to do with me. I was following orders.” The cupid earnestly grabbed Dean's hand and shoved it to his forehead. “You can read my mind brother, you'll see!”

Dean did it quickly, nearly throwing up from how sticky sweet the cupid's mind was. He pulled his hand away and had the overwhelming urge to wipe his hand on his pants even though there was nothing on them. He did it anyway.

“He's telling the truth.” He reported.

“Thank you!” The cupid sounded relieved, as though there was a chance Dean would have lied to get him in trouble. Dean shot him a dark look.

…

There hadn't been much else to do with the cupid beside find out that his parents where made to love instead of falling in love. It made Castiel sick to think about. They were played with and forced together so that Michael and Lucifer could have their vessels. It was terribly corrupt.

Sam's demon briefcase just made everything worse. When they opened it Dean seemed to drop from the sky just in time to watch the human soul float away. He was standing next to Castiel, pressed up to his side, and he slung his arm around Castiel's shoulders in a way that seemed almost practiced. Castiel stiffened in his hold.

“Everything is starting to make sense.” He told them.

“What about that makes sense?” Sam asked, gesturing to the now empty briefcase.

“This town isn't in a love-gone-wrong bubble. It's suffering from hunger. Famine, actually.”

 am's eyes went wide. “As in the horseman?”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. But it's not just food. It could be sex or attention or love. Whatever they want most.”

Then Dean turned his smoldering green eyes on Castiel and everything fit into place. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but all that came out was a strangled sounding “Oh.”

“That explains the lovers that cupid shot up.” Sam said but Castiel barely heard him. He was caught in Dean's eyes, glowing their bewitching green and practically burning. They were nose to nose and all Castiel could see was green.

Castiel's body was impossibly hot. He could feel every point on his body that Dean was touching him, a burning line from ankle to shoulder and then across his body. He shivered as Dean's free had moved, fingers gripping Castiel's wrist in a slow movement that almost seemed subconscious. Dean had a lot of body heat and in a moment of displacement Castiel remembered Jimmy talking about how being possessed by Dean was like being chained to a comet.

Suddenly Dean was gone, pulled bodily off Castiel by Sam and he mourned the loss of the heat. Dean snarled and it came out like thunder. It reminded Castiel of when Raphael had threatened to take him to Michael.

“Alright, that's enough.” Sam grunted as Dean struggled. It was obvious that Dean was trying not to hurt Sam and that it was working in his brother's advantage.

“Sam!” He gasped.

“Get off me, I've got it, I've got it.” Dean snapped, finally shoving Sam off. Sam stumbled a little but didn't fall or break anything. Dean straightened his disheveled clothes and Castiel's thoughts at the sight were probably not appropriate.

“I'm under control.” Dean said, obviously embarrassed.

“For now.” Sam pointed out. Dean shot Sam a dark look, but then his eyes flicked to Castiel on habit and heat flooded his gaze. Castiel forced himself to swallow.

…

Dean felt like his body was ice without Cas to give it life. He clamped down on the feeling and shoved at it until it was packed into a tiny box and buried. Then his eyes met bottomless blue ones and the feeling sprang free.

This was going to come back to him and bite him in the ass.

“I can do this.” He told Sam. “I'm an angel.”

“He's right, Sam.” Cas chipped in and at the sound of his voice Dean had to close his eyes and concentrate on anything but the Cas.

Sam made a frustrated noise. “Have you seen yourself? You nearly lost it at the sound of his voice!”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Shut up, Sammy.” Trust Sam to bring up the problem and shove it in his face so it was impossible to ignore.

“No. If you lose control you'll molest my brother with your angel strength and that is not happening.”

Rage filled him and Dean's eyes snapped open. He fixed Sam with the deadliest glare he could muster, which must have been good because the human flinched.

"I would never do that.” He snarled. “Anyone who hurts Cas will get a personal escort to hell, myself included.”

Dean's words were met with a stunned silence. As it sunk in exactly what he had said Dean considered fucking off to save himself the embarrassment. He almost did, except the idea of the things that could happen to Cas while he wasn't watching would drive him crazy. Famine must have been getting closer because his feelings were getting fucking ridiculous and hard to control.

Sam opened his mouth, finally making the connections and responding to Dean's outburst, but Dean cut him off. “Forget I said that.”

“But-”

“I said forget it.” He snapped, looking anywhere but at the Winchesters. Cas had been silent through the exchange and Dean really didn't want to know how much his feelings were not received.

“Dean.” Cas said, his voice almost gentle.

Dean felt desperation grip him. He would give anything to not be there but at the same time he would give more to have his arm around Cas again, ensuring that his human was safe. A wounded sound tore it's way from his throat before he could stop it.

“Stop talking.” He demanded, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. He looked to Sam.“We, Sam and I, need to go get Famine and kill him. That will make this all stop.”

Sam shifted nervously. “I can't.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at the human. “And why not?”

Sam licked his lips. “I think it got to me. I think I'm hungry for it.”

“It?” Came Cas's deep voice and Dean fought the shudder at the reminder that Cas was so near and yet not touching his vessel.

“You know.” Sam hedged. Dean got it in that moment.

“Demon blood.” Dean said flatly. Sam winced, then nodded. Dean groaned.

Suddenly, somehow, without Dean's knowledge, Cas was right there. Cas was so close Dean could feel his body heat and he couldn't stop himself from wrapping a possessive arm around his human's waist. If it bothered him, Cas didn't show it.

“You have to get him out of here, Dean.”

Dean turned his head and he was nose to nose with Cas again. “The hunger already has him. The hunger's just gonna travel with him.” He murmured, his eyelids falling to half-staff on their own. Cas actually shivered at the sound of Dean's voice, a delicious full body movement that managed to move him closer to Dean.

“Oh my god.” Dean heard Sam groan. It was enough to pull Dean out of the trance but not enough for Dean to relinquish his hold on Cas. Instead he tore his eyes away from his human and regarded Sam, who was twitching slightly and licking his lips again.

“What should we do?” Cas asked.

“Go cut that bastard's finger off. And before you go you better lock me down good.”

Cas nodded and Dean's grace flared in an angry panic. “It's too dangerous. I'll go alone.” Cas shook his head at that.

“I'll go with you. We'll be safer together.”

Dean frowned, unhappy with the outcome but not finding a way to argue.

“You'll have to hurry.” Sam told them. “Especially because whatever this is will go away when he's gone.” He gestured at the way Dean held Cas and Cas leaned into him in response. “It's creeping me out.”

…

After locking a handcuffed Sam in the bathroom they followed a demon to an restaurant. Dean didn't let go of Castiel the entire time. It had taken some convincing, but Castiel had managed to get Dean to be content with hand holding instead of trying to carry the human everywhere. Dean seemed embarrassed by the way he couldn't keep his hands off Castiel. As they got closer to Famine it got worse; if the angel didn't pay attention his fingers would draw nonsensical patterns all over Castiel's arm.

“Dean.” Castiel said, yet again, ignoring the way Dean's fingers left a trail of fire on his skin in their wake.

“I'm sorry.” Dean mumbled, snatching his free hand away from where it had been writing on the back on Castiel's hand in another language, probably Enochian. Castiel didn't look at the angel.

All Castiel could think about was how it wasn't real and yet sometimes he still had to remind himself. Dean was under the influence of magic. He would never do anything like this if it wasn't for Famine. Castiel held back his emotions, something he was good at, and focused on the task at hand.

They sat in the Impala, trying to scout the restaurant to see what they were dealing with. So far it wasn't working very well.

"I might have to just go for it.” Dean pointed out after a moment of silence, his fingers returning to absentmindedly play with the cuff of Castiel's trench coat. “You'll stay here.”

Castiel frowned, forcing himself to look at Dean. The angel's eyes glowed like they always did when Castiel made eye contact with him. It made Castiel's heart stutter in his chest. He ignored the offensive organ.

“I'm going in with you, Dean.”

Dean frowned, leaning towards Castiel so that their noses were almost touching. It was suddenly very hot in the car. Somewhere in the back of Castiel's mind he considered opening the windows. Dean's angelic heat was stifling.

“My powers aren't at their full, I don't know if I can protect you.” Dean said, his voice was low and forceful. “We don't even know how Famine is effecting you yet.”

Castiel shook his head, ignoring the way his nose brushed Dean's with the movement. “I can take care of myself. We go in together or not at all.”

Dean made a low growling noise in his throat, like a much smaller and tamer version of the thundering sound he made when Castiel was threatened by Raphael or Sam tried to separate them.

“Dean.” Castiel tried to placate the angel, resting his free hand on the junction where Dean's shoulder met his neck. The temperature in the Impala skyrocketed and Dean's eyes grew brighter, lit from the inside.

Dean's eyes flicked down and back up. Dean had somehow moved closer. Their noses were touching now and Castiel could feel Dean's breath on his lips, strange because the angel didn't need to breathe unless he was talking. Castiel knew he should move away but he couldn't remember why.

“Cas.” Dean responded, his voice rough and barely above a whisper.

Then their lips touched, soft and hesitant. It was as though neither of them could believe that it was really happening. It was just a soft brush, and as far as first kisses go it probably wasn't the best, but suddenly Castiel was overheating.

Castiel's brain chose that moment to remind Castiel that Dean was suffering from the effects of Famine and that it wasn't real. With a gasp Castiel pulled himself back, pushing on the angel's collarbone. Dean's free hand, the one that wasn't busy holding Castiel's hand, had wrapped itself around Castiel's waist and Dean took it off the hunter immediately. Their other hands stayed clasped together, though. Castiel didn't take his free hand off Dean's shoulder, instead grabbing a firm hold of Dean's jacket in case the angel tried to run away.

Dean watched him, expression weary.

We can't.” Castiel found himself saying, because Dean was being tricked at it wasn't fair. Dean winced.

“Ouch.” Dean said, and although it was obviously meant to be flippant it fell flat.

“Dean.” Castiel didn't know what he was trying to say but Dean held up his free hand.

“It's okay.” He said. “I get it Cas. Don't worry, it won't happen again. I'm sorry.”

Dean sounded way too okay with it to be real. He didn't sound like Dean. The Dean Castiel had come to know would probably have sulked about the rejection, flown off and avoided Castiel as much as possible with the pretense of his God quest. This Dean just looked sheepish. Castiel wished they had time for him to question the angel further but there was activity inside the restaurant and Sam was counting on them.

Castiel settled for frowning at Dean and giving him a low “This isn't over.” before they snapped into action.

…

Dean was, for the lack of a better word, an idiot.

With Famine around all he could think of was keeping Cas safe and happy and being allowed to touch him and wanting to know everything about him. It was a complex emotion, it wasn't lust or brotherly love or friendship. It was something that Dean hated looking at too hard. Needless to say, Famine made it impossible for Dean to think of anything but Cas. How did Cas's hair feel running through his fingers? How many different shades of blue were in Cas's eyes? How soft was the patch of skin behind Cas's ear? These all became important questions the moment Famine was in the room with them. Cas was important, everything else was secondary.

He tuned out everything Famine said until Cas grew stiff in Dean's arms. Then Dean decided that Famine had to go, if just simply for the crime of making Cas uncomfortable. It never occurred to him that he might have been doing it himself, especially after the failure of a kiss in the car.

In the end it worked out fine, he supposed. Dean used his impressive angel fight skills to dispatch all of Famine's fugly demons and the horseman himself because Cas seemed to want them gone and that was good enough reason for him, even if it did drain more of his grace than was comfortable. Of course, after the horseman was dead and Dean came to his senses everything was a different story.

It was embarrassing. He had been all over Cas, even when Cas had pushed him away. Their first kiss had been in the front seat of the Impala while he was doped up on Famine mojo and Cas hadn't even liked it. Cas had rejected him and he was expecting to talk about it.

Oh, fuck no.

Unfortunately he couldn't just fuck off. By the time they had gotten rid of Famine Sam had broken out of the bathroom and managed to drink three demons dry off the street on his way to them. It was harder than it should have been, but Dean flew them to Bobby's. After helping lock Sam in Bobby's Panic Room, the same one Dean had let Sam out of when he had been on heaven's side, Cas tried to corner him. With the background sounds of Sam detoxing Cas crowded into Dean's space.

“Dean, I'm sorry.”

Dean didn't meet those painfully blue eyes. “Don't know what for, you weren't the one doing the molesting.”

“Dean-”

“No, it's fine Cas.” Dean cut him off, not wanting to hear the excuses. So he'd been turned down by the human he was pretty much in love with. He'd survive. “Just forget about it, okay?”

“I can't.” Cas's voice was softer than Dean thought it could go. Anger rose in Dean's throat without his permission.

“Well, try.” He spat. He was gone before Cas could reply.


	2. Don't Make This Easy I Want You To Mean It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wants Cas. Castiel Winchester just wants the apocalypse to be over. Dean gets it, but he really wishes his feelings weren't the collateral damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late. This was supposed to be up a week ago but then my computer died and you get the gist of it. Upgraded to M because things progressed. Also, unbeta'd so be kind.

Dean did a great job of avoiding Cas. Yes, he was sulking again, but he was also searching for his Dad and that was important. It wasn't going well. Nothing was going well, now that Dean thought about it, and he constantly had to remind himself that helping Cas was the right thing, no matter how uncomfortable it got. That didn't mean he couldn't avoid the Winchester sometimes.

In fact, Dean was doing such a good job at avoiding Cas that he didn't immediately realize that Cas was dead.

“Fucking Winchesters.” He told the moose standing next to him. The creature just eyed him, apparently not sure if he was a threat or not. Dean threw his vessel's hands in the air.

Okay, so searching for God in the Canadian wilderness was a long shot, but you couldn't blame him for trying.

…

Castiel wasn't sure what he was doing sitting in the Impala. He knew how the scene outside played out. He just couldn't figure out how or why.

Sam stood under exploding fireworks, laughing and dancing in the sparks that rained down around him. Except it wasn't Sam. Sam was a hulking mammoth of a man, at least four to five inches taller than his older brother, but the Sam outside wasn't. That Sam was shorter than Castiel, almost by half a foot, and dangerously reckless. It was Sam when the brothers were in high school, the Sam who spent all his savings on fireworks that he knew their father wouldn't approve of and convinced Castiel to join him because “it would be fun”. It was Sam at his happiest, it was Sam as a rebellious child.

Castiel couldn't remember why it was the wrong Sam. It seemed like the right Sam.

He was sitting in his car biting his lip when the radio suddenly turned itself on.

“Angel to moron, moron come in.” A scratchy voice filtered through the static. “Come on, man, we don't have all day.”

The voice was familiar. “Dean?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

“Am I dreaming?” Castiel couldn't help but ask. It almost felt like a dream, it had the peace and disjointed feeling of a dream but something wasn't right.

“No, you're in heaven.”

Castiel blinked, his brain refusing to put the pieces together. Everything was too peaceful for such jarring information. “Heaven? How?”

“You went and got yourself killed.” There was a moment of silence where Castiel tried to come to terms with the information. He remembered Roy and Walt, hunters with a grudge against Sam, and being shot. The knowledge was like getting splashed with cold water. Suddenly Sam and the fireworks outside were gone. 

“Sam.” Castiel breathed. Sam had been shot before Castiel but Sam wasn't in heaven with his brother. Castiel's chest constricted in panic.

“Listen, I don't have time right now. What do you see? Is there a path anywhere?” Dean demanded.

Castiel swallowed before answering. “I'm in the Impala on a road.”

“Of course it's a road for you.” Dean almost sounded scolding, though Castiel wasn't sure with how his voice was breaking up.

“Dean-” Castiel started, but the angel interrupted him.

“Just follow the road, Cas, you'll- Sam. You just- find Sam. I'll- later.” With that the radio on the Impala died. Castiel stared at it.

“Dean?” He asked the machine. It didn't answer.

Castiel was without a guide in heaven. He licked his lips nervously and started his car. Dean had said to follow the road and after everything Castiel trusted the angel. He put the Impala into drive and pulled smoothly forward and into the strangely purple night. 

…

Castiel peered at the small radio in the living room of Sam's favorite Thanksgiving, which was not with his family. Castiel ignored how the information stung.

“What are you doing?” Sam gave him one of the looks he reserved for when Castiel was acting particularly strange in public.

“Dean spoke with me using a radio before. I'm trying to figure out how to call him back. 

As if on queue the television behind his buzzed to life, a grainy picture of the angel's face peering through it as though Dean was having as much trouble seeing them as they had seeing him.

“Dean!” Sam gaped at the angel.

“Hiya Sammy.” Dean grinned at the younger Winchester.

Castiel stepped forward and called attention to himself. “Dean.” Dean's face fell when he looked to Castiel and he tried not to let the disappointment he felt at the action show. “I've found Sam but there was a light that shook the house shortly after.

Dean turned back to Sam. “Yeah, don't go into the light.”

Sam snorted but Castiel breezed over it. “What is it?”

“Zach's looking for you. You can't say yes if you're dead so they've got to bring you back to life.”

“Great, problem solved.” Sam grinned. Dean gave him an irritated look.

“Problem not solved, Sammy. It's time you did something for me. I can't go to heaven so you're going to have to find Josh for me.”

Castiel frowned. “Josh?”

“Joshua. Old angel, talks to God. He might know where Dad is.”

Sam sputtered. “What?”

Dean had yet to look at Castiel for more than a second and when he did his expression grew tight. Castiel's heart felt like it was locked in a box, squeezed impossibly tight and beating the walls to try and get out. He had ruined something with Dean, the least he could do was help him in his search for God.

“Where can we find him?”

“What?” Sam repeated, as if he couldn't believe they were agreeing to it.

This time when Dean glanced at Castiel his expression held more relief and hope than pain and discomfort. The pressure on Castiel's heart eased. “That road you've been following is called the Axis Mundi. It's like a path through heaven. It will take you to the garden if you follow it- enough. Josh hangs- there.” Dean started to break up again.

Castiel nodded quickly, aware that at any second Dean would fade out. “Follow the Axis Mundi.”

Dean grinned. “Thank- Cas.” Dean sputtered out, the television going dead.

…

Castiel had a strange day. Between their old friends relaxing at the roadhouse in heaven and Zachariah taking advantage of the specter of his mother he didn't have very much patience when he met Joshua. After that he was restored to his body and had to break the bad news to Dean. To say that the angel didn't take it well was putting it mildly.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean hissed, kicking at the cheap motel table. It shattered under his angelic strength.

“Dean-” Sam tried.

Dean ignored him, rounding on Castiel instead. “Was there any chance he was lying?”

“No.” Castiel answered quietly. Dean swore again. Castiel wasn't sure if he should reach out to the angel. He knew Dean was angry with him and he'd never been very good at comforting people. He didn't know if he would help or just make everything worse. Castiel wasn't sure how to make Dean feel better about the fact that He just didn't care, something that Castiel had suspected all along. Then again, his disillusionment with his own father had been terrible. Perhaps he could relate to the angel.

Dean yanked Castiel's amulet over his head, tossing it at Castiel less than gently. “Here.” He spat. Castiel caught it, numb. “It's worthless now.”

Then Dean was gone.

Castiel didn't think it was appropriate that he felt disappointed that he didn't get the change to talk to the angel about what had happened with Famine. There were no more options for saving the world and he didn't know if he would even get to work things out with Dean before the end.

Castiel still felt numb when he dropped his amulet in the trash on the way out.

…

Dean had finally managed to get drunk when AC/DC's Highway to Hell started playing out of no where. He hummed along between swigs of whiskey, because what else could you do when the universe decided to gift you with AC/DC on the worst day of your existence? He tried not to think about how the taste of the whiskey reminded him of how Cas smelled. Whiskey and leather and gunpowder, a rough scent that made his grace tingle.

Dammit, he wasn't supposed to be thinking about it.

A few seconds later Highway to Hell stopped without warning and Dean couldn't help but scowl at the pile of empty whiskey bottles. Of course, think about Cas once and he gets punished. Thanks, Dad.

Dean drained the last third of the bottle, relishing the taste on his vessel's tongue, when an electronic beep made him jump. He glared, looking around for the source of the noise. It took him a moment to realize that it came from his pocket.

He pulled out the pay-as-you-go phone that he got specifically to keep in touch with the Winchesters and for a moment he considered smashing it. Instead he opened it with clumsy fingers. It took him way too long to get to his voicemail. Sluggishly he pushed the speaker to his ear, hoping to hear Cas's dark voice. Even washed out through the phone it was still Cas and for some reason he thought that if Cas would tell him everything was going to be okay he would believe him. Dean wasn't sure if being drunk was a good idea or not.

It wasn't Cas, it was Sam. There was a lot of interference in the background, probably a bar, and Dean found himself not really listening as Sam talked for what was probably way too long. That was, until Sam said the name of the Righteous Man.

“...Cas is scared to, you know? He isn't good at showing it, isn't good at showing anything really, but he could really use your help right now. I think just you being with him would make him feel better, even if he doesn't admit it-” Dean hung up before Sam's earnest voice could continue, his vision spinning. Though that could just be because he had managed to get himself very drunk.

Well if Cas needed him Dean wasn't about to say no. The angel struggled to his feet, taking several attempts to make sure that the phone found it's way inside Jimmy's jacket pocket, before opening his wings. They opened slowly. Dean hoped that was from the alcohol and not because his grace was that weak. Flying took the least amount of grace, like how breathing took the least amount of energy from a human. It was just something angels did. If he couldn't fly by himself he might as well have not existed at all.

Now there was a scary thought.

Dean shook himself before taking flight, except that his aim was off because he landed on the light post outside the liquor store.

“Son of a bitch.” He gasped as gravity took his vessel and he started to fall.

It took him a few seconds, but he managed to land on the ground unharmed. He shook out his wings again, ready to try a second time, when he realized he didn't actually know where he was going. He hadn't listened to most of the message. With a frown Dean sluggishly fished the phone out of his pocket.

This was going to be a long night.

…

Dean wasn't about to admit that it took him three tries to land in the Winchesters motel room correctly. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know that standing up increased drunkenness. The room was swimming, but Dean could still easily identify Sam as the hulk of a human on the other side of the room.

“Got your message.” He slurred, leaning on the half-wall carefully. Sam jumped and Dean almost laughed. “It was way too long, Sammy. I thought you'd never shut up.”

Sam was blurry, but Dean was pretty sure the human was staring at him. Dean could imagine the bitchy face the younger Winchester was making. For some reason it struck him as funny and he couldn't fight the giggle that worked his way through his vessel's throat.

“Are you drunk?” Sam asked.

Dean scowled. “No.” Sam just stared at him and Dean relented. “Okay, yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Lots of shit. Mostly a liquor store. Whiskey is good.” Dean stood up and tried to walk over to Sam but the floor started moving under him. It was like trying to fly all over again. Suddenly the floor was rushing up to meet him, but before they could get to know one another Sam caught him around the upper arms.

“Whoa there, you okay?”

Dean snorted, forcing his eyes to focus on Sam's face. For a brief moment Dean wondered if how drunk he was related directly to how little of an angel he was, but he banished the thought by trying to decipher Sam's expression. The human looked concerned.

“Don't ask stupid questions.” He decided out loud. “Where'd Cas go?”

“He went for a walk.” Sam answered as he lead Dean over to a chair like a child. “There have been these demon attacks. Massive, right on the edge of town. We can't figure out why-”

“Where are the angels?” Dean interrupted, mostly because the only thing he really got out of that explanation was that Cas had gone out for a walk in the middle of a hot zone. Was that idiot trying to get captured?

Sam huffed, finally releasing Dean when he was sure Dean was sitting solidly on the chair. Dean scowled back.

“They're not here, exactly. They've been speaking through this prophet.”

Even drunk Dean knew that wasn't good. “Who?”

“Uh, Leah Gideon?”

Dean's heart sank and he was starting to feel a lot less drunk. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

“She's not a prophet.”

Sam opened his mouth, probably to argue, but that was the moment the door opened and Cas walked in. Dean felt his mouth go dry at the sight of his human, covered in an alarming amount of blood. Thankfully, none of it was his. Dean could still smell the difference, even if he couldn't fly for shit. That had to mean good things about his status as an angel. Sam rushed to Cas, words of concern on his lips, but Dean didn't pay attention to what he was saying. He took a minute to just look.

Cas's hair was windblown, like always. His eyes were a deep, rich blue, though the shape of them was tired and sad. His lips were chapped because he didn't have time for things like chap-stick and he had day old stubble peppering his fair skin. Dean couldn't remember the last time he had seen something as grounding as the sight of Cas Winchester stumbling into a room with his ratty old trench coat covered in blood.

Cas brushed Sam's concern off, giving a terse report on the state of the town. The entire time Cas's blue eyes didn't leave Dean's, his expression guarded and weary.

“It's starting.” Dean said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended. Cas's eyes narrowed.

“What is? And where have you been, Dean?”

Dean scowled at the accusatory tone, stung. “On a bender.”

Cas just blinked. “A bender?”

Sam sighed, jumping in. It was probably a good thing too because Dean wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth next. “Yeah, he's still pretty smashed.”

Cas gave him a disapproving look and Dean suddenly wished he had smashed the cell phone the moment it started playing AC/DC. Trust his weakness for good music to get him into this mess. And his weakness for Winchesters, but that was beside the point.

“That's beside the point.” He said, because his grace couldn't come up with anything better. “That chick isn't a real prophet. I've got all their names in my head and she's not on the list.”

Cas was impassive and it was driving Dean up the wall faster than he thought possible. Sam was curious. “Well, then, what is she?”

“The Whore.”

…

Pastor Gideon hadn't taken it well, but then again when Dean is the angel in the equation no one seemed to be able to take it well. If Dean was a strange angel before, now he was completely bizarre.

Castiel peered at Dean from around the Impala where he was not hiding. It didn't seem to matter if he hid or not anyway, Dean sat on the steps to the hotel room with his head in his hands. He didn't seem to care very much about his surroundings. He was finally sobering up completely and with sobriety came the inevitable hangover. Castiel felt bad for the angel. He had seen Dean drink before, Dean had drained most of the alcohol at Bobby's house the day before Jo and Ellen had died, but he had never seen Dean drunk. Castiel had come to think that angels just couldn't get drunk, that something in their being protected them. It seemed he was wrong.

With a deep breath Castiel reached into the window of the Impala and retrieved the bottle of Asprin he kept there for issues such as these. Slowly, making sure to scuff his shoes along the ground so that the angel wouldn't be shocked by his presence, Castiel made his way over to Dean.

“Dean.” He called softly as he approached. Dean made a vague gesture in his direction with his entire body but he didn't look up.

It was hard to be upset with a creature as pathetic as Dean. Castiel was finding it hard to remember exactly why he was so upset in the first place. He recalled a suffocating wave of worry when the angel had disappeared but it paled in comparison to the sympathetic pain Castiel felt looking at Dean on the step.

Carefully, as not to jostle the angel too much, Castiel sat next to Dean. There wasn't much room on the step and they ended up pressed together, knee to shoulder. As Castiel moved Dean's head snapped to him and he watched the human settle with guarded jade eyes. They weren't glowing, just reflecting the light spilling out from the hotel room, and Castiel felt strangely empty because of it.

Castiel looked away from the cut off expression on Dean's face to regard the pill bottle as he twisted it between his fingers. He could feel Dean staring at the side of his face. For a moment neither of them spoke.

When the silence became painful Castiel sucked in a deep breath and held the bottle out in Dean's direction. The angel's stare moved away from the side of Castiel's face. He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing.

“What's this?” Dean asked at last.

“Asprin. For the pain.”

Dean took it. Their fingers brushed together and Castiel had to consciously force his breathing to stay even. He wished he could gather the angel up in his arms and tell him it would be okay but he knew Dean would be angry. Dean wouldn't want to be coddled, Castiel reminded himself, because he was an angel. Depression aside, Dean was strong. He would be upset if Castiel forgot that.

Dean turned the bottle over in his hands. “How much do I take?”

Castiel grimaced. “You are an angel. The whole bottle might be required.”

There was a moment of silence where neither of them moved.

“Thanks.” Dean sounded so honestly grateful that Castiel couldn't help but look at him. Dean stared off into the night, ignoring Castiel's movement.

There was a moment where Castiel just stared at the profile of Dean's face, the way his mouth slanted down in a hard line and his eyes looked washed out and tired. Before he could stop himself he had reached up and placed a heavy hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean looked to him, his expression lost, and Castiel's mouth spoke without his permission.

“You're not alone, Dean. My father failed me too, I understand the feeling.” Castiel closed his mouth and swallowed before he could say something foolish.

To his surprise Dean smiled, though it didn't meet his eyes. It was like the smiles he used to give Castiel when Uriel was in charge, a pained and trapped expression that spoke of discomfort and an unwillingness to show weakness. “And how do you deal with it?”

The moment felt raw and honest. Castiel's mouth took advantage of the feeling. “I kill a whore, I protect Sam, I help Bobby, I talk to you.”

Some of the light that had been consistently present since Dean had been resurrected, absent since God's refusal to help with the apocalypse, sparked back to life behind the angel's eyes. They weren't otherworldly as they had been before but the color was jewel bright even though there wasn't enough light to illuminate them. Something uncoiled in Castiel's gut that he hadn't known was there.

“I can do that.”

Castiel's heart fluttered. “You make it sound like a promise.”

The light behind Dean's eyes was growing brighter, two far off nightlights in the dark. “That's because it was.”

Castiel wasn't sure what to say to that but he was saved by his brother and the pastor leaving the hotel room. Angel and human scrambled to their feet, ready to move out in moments.

…

Dean was holding Leah still for the pastor's killing blow when everything turned bad. Leah shouted out a spell and Dean hit the ground, yelling out in pain.

“Dean!” Castiel yelled for his angel, diving towards the prone form. He didn't make it, the Whore's magic grabbed him and threw him against the wall with his brother and the pastor. Castiel saw red.

There was a struggle with a huge crowd of Leah's followers and the pastor lost the cypress stake Dean had gotten for them. Castiel was knocked to the ground almost on top of it a few moments later. He grasped it, barely hanging on.

“Oh, please.” Leah laughed at him, moving into his vision. “Like you're a servant of heaven.”

Castiel glanced over his shoulder at Dean. The angel didn't even look like he was breathing.

“This is why we win. You're the great vessel? You're pathetic, self-hating, and faithless. It's the end of the world and you're going to sit back and watch it happen.”

He snapped his head back to her, fixing her with the most hateful glare he could muster. “Don't be so sure, whore.” Castiel snarled, burying the cypress stake in her torso. She went up in flames.

…

Castiel sat up by Dean's bedside because he didn't know what else to do. The pastor had gone home, Sam had fallen asleep, and still Castiel waited. Dean's pulse was strong, his breathing shallow but even. Castiel didn't know why the angel didn't just wake up.

Castiel had been holding Dean's hand since before Sam had fallen asleep. Sam hadn't said anything, though he had noticed. His responding smile had been fond. Castiel had always been painfully grateful that Sam was his brother, now more so than ever. He knew that Sam's unspoken approval meant that whatever happened Dean was a part of their family, that Dean would be protected and loved even when the world fell down around them. That was the way it should be, Castiel thought. An angel should always be loved.

He was feeling terribly melancholy.

It was that moment, holding Dean's hand and waiting for the angel to wake up, that Castiel felt his despair more clearly than before. Everything that had been building up since he was pulled out of hell, confirmed by Famine while Dean curled his body around him, came crashing down. He was guilty for Dean's pain, on top of everything that had already happened. The apocalypse was no closer to being averted than when he was raised from hell. Castiel was hit with the pointlessness of it all.

If Castiel couldn't stop it then who could? Castiel's mind choked on the answer, but not finding another solution he accepted it.

Castiel let go of Dean's hand for the first time since they had settled the angel into the hotel bed. He fished a piece of paper and pen out of a drawer and wrote his angel a letter. The letter ended up being about a lot of things, but mostly it was about bewitching green eyes, brash smiles, and confident exteriors. It was about kindred spirits who were raised more by war than by their fathers and about the moment Dean walked into a barn painted in protective symbols. It was about the addiction of Dean's skin and the torture of Famine's spell. It was an apology, to both Dean and Sam. It was about everything.

He folded up the note and stuck it in the pocket of the jacket Dean had never taken off. After a moment of hesitation Castiel pressed his lips to Dean's, just for a moment, before he left. He took the Impala, Sam could hot-wire any car he wanted. It was nothing but Castiel, the open road, and a waiting archangel.

…

Dean was furious. He was out of his mind with anger, but he kept it on lockdown and didn't let it show. He came to the end of the letter and woke Sam. Then they hit the road.

Sam followed Cas like a bloodhound. They found him before the idiot could do anything stupid. Cas was tight lipped and narrow eyed. Dean stayed as hidden as possible, a promise to Sam. Sam wanted to talk him out of it, Dean thought it was a waste of time.

He was proven right.

…

Dean wasn't talking to Cas, just glaring as the human brooded. Sometimes Cas stared at Dean with an expression bordering on broken. Dean stared right back, holding his ground. Cas didn't get to write those things to Dean like a last goodbye and then ditch on him. If the things he had written were true instead of pity filled lies then he wouldn't have run off to say yes to Michael. He got it, he really did. Cas didn't feel it, whatever, he didn't have to go shoving it down his throat before running away.

Suddenly, there were voices in his head, all shouting out at once. Dean was driven to his knees from the force of it. Someone called out his name and there were hands on him. Dean glanced up to find Cas, face lined with worry, and Sam right behind him. He shoved the human off him and spread his wings.

…

Things were going from bad to worse. Dean dumped Adam's body on the couch and warded him against the angels, told Castiel that he was worthless, and then stalked off. Castiel wasn't sure what he had done exactly, but apparently his confessions had just made everything worse. That was the last time he waxed poetic about anyone. Obviously he hadn't been thinking straight.

Several heated arguments later Castiel was put in the panic room by Sam, Dean standing guard just behind him. The look on Dean's face was pure righteous fury.

“We're both going to give in, Sam. It's just a matter of time.”

“You don't mean that.”

“The choice won't be hard for you. You've chosen demons before. And I, well, I've was broken by hell a long time ago.”

“Stop it Cas, just stop.” Sam was shaking his head, his hazel eyes too bright. Castiel just felt numb, as though it was all over. In a way it was. Dean hated him, he hated himself, and there was no other way to save the world than to let himself be wiped away by an archangel. He just wished that his brother and Dean would accept it, make it easier. They were dragging it out. It was like ripping off a band-aid, Castiel thought hysterically, more painful the longer it took.

Still, Castiel did as Sam asked and stopped. He watched blankly as they trapped him in the panic room, Sam taking Dean and his righteous fury with him.

…

Dean was on his way to the panic room to give Cas a talking to, try and snap him out of his bullshit excuses, when he heard a crash. Panic took over, wiping away the anger in less than a second. He imagined Cas killing himself, getting it all over with, and cursed Sam for making him leave Cas alone.

The angel practically ripped the door off it's hinges to get in. “Cas?” He called out, sweeping his eyes over the room.

He spotted Cas and his angel banishing symbol painted in blood but it was already too late.

“I'm sorry, Dean.” Cas said, and Dean thought he would have been more likely to believe it if his grace wasn't yanked painfully halfway across the world.

…

Castiel frowned at the street preacher. “I'm Castiel Winchester, do you know who I am?”

“Dear God.” The man gasped. Castiel took it as confirmation.

“I need you to pray for me.”

The man scrambled to his knees, hands clasped together, and Castiel felt sick at the sight. He felt even sicker when the preacher started babbling to God. The sick feeling was better than the nothing from before, though, so he counted it as a good thing.

Then Dean was there.

“You pray too loud.” He snarled at the preacher before he knocked him unconscious. Castiel's head felt light, as though it was floating somewhere above his body, and Dean grabbed him by the front of his trench coat and dragged him into the alleyway.

“Dean-” He started but the angel shut him up by punching him in the jaw. Castiel's head snapped around and he sagged against the alley wall. The angel grabbed him again, hoisting him up so they were eye to eye.

“You stupid motherfucker.” Dean hissed, eyes bright with a light that seemed to pierce. It was nothing light the inner glow that Castiel always thought of when he imagined Dean's eyes. It was like a green blade of light, as though his eyes had become laser-pointers. “What gives you the right to give up on us? After everything you said? What gives you the right to give up on me?”

“Dean.” He tried again.

The angel shook him. “Shut up, I'm not done.” Castiel gasped but said nothing.

“You don't get to say that kind of shit to me unless you mean it, Cas. And if you mean it you don't get to run out on it. If you cared you'd fight for this.” Dean shook him again and Castiel groaned as the motion jostled his hurt neck. “I don't know what the fuck your problem is and I don't care, you don't go running off to archangels to solve them.” With that Dean punched him in the gut and threw him to the dirty ground hard.

“I gave everything, would still give everything, but this is all you have for me?”

“Dean.” Castiel gasped. The angel might have broken a rib, though he didn't seem to care.

Dean's lips curled back in anger. He crouched down, bringing his fist up for another swing.“I don't want your excuses, Cas.” He growled. “I want you to mean it.”

“No excuses.” Castiel hissed around the pain of breathing. He forced himself to meet the laser-like eyes head on. It was now or never, and suddenly Castiel felt alive again. “I meant it.”

Dean's expression went from fury to unreadable in seconds. His eyes dimmed, which had to be a good thing, and his fists loosened. Castiel didn't have enough time to process the information before Dean's lips were on his.

The kiss was burning, mouths open and biting. For a moment in time Castiel was sealed to his angel by the bruising force of their lips and teeth. Then everything went dark.

…

Castiel woke up slowly, blinking in the light. One wrist was handcuffed to the frame of the panic room cot. He wasn't alone.

Dean sat at the foot of his bed, Sam standing a little ways off. Dean wasn't looking at him, neither was Sam. Instead they seemed to be having a silent argument with just their expressions. The idea of his angel and his brother teaming up on him with silent agreements made Castiel nervous.

For a long moment there was silence, then Sam spoke. His hazel eyes never left the angel.

“How are you feeling, Cas?”

Castiel took a deep breath, feeling the way his chest moved easily. He turned his head, finding it only barely sore. His jaw, however, was still swollen.

“Well, despite the fight I got in earlier.”

Dean shot him a grin, one laced with danger and half-finished conversations. Sam gave a one shoulder shrug.

“Dean says it changed your mind about saying yes to Michael.”

Castiel looked over at Dean. The angel held his gaze. “For the most part.”

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. “Cas, if this whole thing was about how you and Dean have been dancing around each other for almost a year I swear I will kick both your asses.”

Castiel scowled. “It wasn't. I still think it's a good idea.” Dean gave him a sharp look but he plowed on. “However, I would rather find a way to stay with Dean. And you, of couse.”

The angel relaxed slightly. “You could say this thing we've been dancing around has actually saved the day.”

Sam shook his head at them. “I can't believe gay love actually saved the day.” Castiel scowled.

“Hey, don't knock it til you try it.” Dean defended. Sam pulled a face, pulling the keys to the handcuffs out of his pocket.

“I don't want details, ever, but I'm happy for you.”

Castiel was hit with a wave of appreciation for his brother, followed by a wave of regret over the things he had said. “I'm sorry, Sam.”

His brother shrugged as he unlocked the handcuffs. “It doesn't matter now. Adam is missing.

Castiel wasn't stupid, Sam hadn't forgiven him, but Sam knew there were more important things to do. “Where is he?”

“I did a recon. He's in the room they put you. The place is crawling with mooks.”

Castiel frowned at Dean. “How are we going to get him out?”

Sam grimaced. “Not sure yet. We'll make a plan on the way.”

…

Dean was almost surprised when Cas kept a hold of his hand as they walked towards the green room. Cas was looking around as though the area had personally insulted him and Sam was avoiding looking at them at all costs. The entire situation was painfully awkward and yet Cas stubbornly didn't let go of his hand. It was like a promise and Dean felt like he could do anything.

“Where are we?” Cas asked with a frown, his gravel voice frustrated. Dean was starting to think it was more of a displacement issue than anything else that made Cas hate it when Dean flew them places.

“Van Nuys, California.” He reported, nodding to the warehouse that held the green room. “It's in there.”

Cas wrinkled his nose. “It's in California?”

“Where did you think it was? Jupiter, a blade of grass?”

“Not California.” Cas was grouchy from the flight and Dean somehow found it endearing. Cas wasn't actually angry, there was nothing to worry about, and for a second Dean forgot about his plan to rescue Adam and the apocalypse and the fact that he had to beat Cas up in an alley before his human would stop trying to kill himself for the world. For just that moment Dean was just Dean and Cas was just Cas. Dean could get used to a life like that.

Then Sam interrupted, clearing his throat awkwardly. Stupid younger brothers. “Tell me again why you can't just go in there, grab Adam, and shazam outta there?”

“There are five angels in there.”

“So? You're fast.”

Dean scowled. He was pretty fast. At one point he might have been able to hold them off long enough to get Adam to safety but with his grace nearly gone he would be lucky to get out of the building. “They're faster.”

With regret Dean shook Cas off his arm. Cas turned concerned blue eyes on the angel and Dean saw the bruise on his jaw in daylight. It was pretty bad. Before he could stop himself he reached up and brushed his fingers across Cas's jawline, erasing the mark as though it had never existed.

“I'll take them out, you follow behind and get Adam.”

“Five angels? Isn't that suicide?” Sam asked. Cas's eyes flashed in worry and anger and Dean wished Sam would just shut up for once in his life.

“Maybe.” He admitted, pulling the box cutter he had grabbed before they left Bobby's out of his pocket.

Cas glared. “What the hell do you think you're going to do with that?” He asked, voice low and furious.

“What I have to.” Dean said tightly, pulling off Jimmy's jacket and flannel. Cas eyed him, a frown marring his features. Dean wished he was stripping for Cas under different circumstances, but there wasn't time. He yanked the black tee shirt over his head and barred his chest to the brothers.

Sam looked at him as though he had gone crazy and Cas's pupils widened. Dean wished he had more time. He would pray for it, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He held the box cutter out.

“I need one of you to draw the banishing symbol on my chest.”

“No.” Cas's voice was a sharp rumble. Dean gave him his best attempt at a smile but it probably came out as a grimace.

“Cas, it's the only way.” He tried to make his voice gentle but they were pressed on time. Cas shook his head, stubborn to a fault, but when Sam stepped forward Cas stopped him.

“If it has to be done I'll do it.”

It stung, not something that Dean had expected. His fading grace meant that sensations, both physical and emotional, were stronger. Everything was too close and at the same time he wanted more. He held fast, refusing to wince and Cas carved quickly. When it was done he buttoned the flannel over it and pulled his jacket back on. He scooped up the black shirt, trying not to move his chest too much. The lines of the Enochian letters burned.

“Here.” He shoved the shirt at Cas. “Keep it safe for me. It's my only real shirt.”

Dean was trying not to think about the fact that the symbol on his chest might actually rip his grace apart because he was so weak.

“Dean.” Cas sounded pained. Dean knew how he felt. They didn't even have five minutes to figure out what they were, they only had seconds.

Then Cas gripped the sides of Dean's face and pulled him down to him. Dean's surprise melted into approval. He wrapped his arms around Cas's waist, pulling his human to him and molding their bodies together.

The kiss was desperation. It was everything they didn't have time to say. It was a language all it's own. It was like good music, tongues tracing each other in a dance and lips moving in rhythm. For one heart stopping moment Dean considered telling the world to fuck it and flying his human somewhere nice where they could spend the apocalypse in luxury and, most importantly, each others arms.

Then Cas pulled away, nipping at Dean's bottom lip as he went, and Dean trying to chase him. Cas tucked his face into Dean's neck instead, his breath warm on sensitive skin. Cas pulled away after a long moment, Dean letting him go against his better judgment, and he gave the angel a blue eyed glare over kiss-swollen lips. His bedhead was extreme. Dean was going to die if he didn't get to keep Cas.

“Come back.” Cas commanded. Dean grinned. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noticed that Sam had vanished. He hoped the kid wasn't dead.

“Death didn't keep me away.” He reminded Cas. The corner of his lips twitched up and his blue eyes grew warm. Before Dean could think better of it he stomped his way through the doors and to the five angels guarding the green room.

The first one to attack him was stupid, doing it alone was a sure way to get himself killed. Dean proved it by landing his angel blade in his sibling's gut. The responding flash of light forced Dean to close his eyes and that was not good. If he was an angel he shouldn't have needed to close his eyes for the death of one of his siblings. By the time the grace had faded away the other angels were taking him more seriously, circling around slowly. Dean tucked his blade away.

“Come on, motherfuckers. You too chicken to take me?”

The closest brother lunged at Dean and he ripped his flannel open, pressing his palm flat against the mark Cas had carved there.

Then there was only pain.

Dean felt every shred of his grace rip apart, his wings shattering and shredding until there was nothing left but crumbs of grace in the bottom of Jimmy's body and darkness.

…

The month without Dean was the longest month Castiel had experienced since being pulled out of hell. More than once Sam tried to bring up the fact that Dean was gone but Castiel refused to discuss it. Dean wasn't gone, he was just regrouping. Perhaps he was injured, but he would find a way back.

Except that in the meantime the world was burning down. First Gabriel died, then Sam's college friend turned out to be a demon. Crowley was getting a little too friendly and Sam's grand plan was to accept Lucifer into his body and then control him. Castiel had a headache. Then his phone rang.

“This is not over.” He warned his brother, pinning him with his furious stare as he opened his phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Cas.”

Castiel froze, his breath stopping in his chest. “Dean.” He breathed. Sam's head shot up.

“Is he okay?”

Castiel ignored his brother, pressing the phone to his ear tighter. “I thought you were dead. Where are you?”

“A hospital.” Dean sounded upset. “I fucking hate hospitals, man.”

“Are you all right?”

Dean sighed, the air crackling through the speaker. “Not even close.”

Castiel felt his heart constrict. “Tell me where you are.”

“No, Cas, I'll come to you. Just wire me some money for food and a plane ride and I'll be there.”

Somewhere a pin dropped. “What do you mean?”

There was a moment of painful silence on the other end before Dean spoke. “They say I just appeared out of no where on a fishing boat a month ago, pissed off some sailors. The doc was shocked when I woke up just now. I was supposed to be a vegetable. And now I don't have any angel juice left. I'm pretty much human.”

Castiel forced a swallow around a lump in his throat. “Dean, I'm s-”

“Don't say it Cas.” Dean commanded. “I picked this. Send me some money and I'll be there.”

Castiel nodded even though Dean couldn't see him. “I'll have Bobby wire you the money.”

“What?” Sam and Bobby asked at the same time. Castiel ignored them.

“We've found a way to destroy Pestilence. As soon as you get here...” Castiel trailed off, unable to find the words. He started again. “Angel or not I could use your help, Dean.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.” Dean responded, a smile in his voice. Castiel nodded again.

“Goodbye, Dean.” He said, but Dean had already hung up. It seemed he was still terrible at phone etiquette.

…

Dean had a bug bite on his ass and it itched. He had gotten no less than three dirty looks from people for scratching it in public and every time he seriously considered giving them the finger. Not to mention that the plane had been terrifying and the bus was disgusting. Dean scowled at a woman with three children who were all screaming across the isle from him.

Once upon a time Dean would have been able to peer into their souls and see the reason they were crying, which would have at least made him feel better. Now they were just people. It made Dean antsy, like he had lost the ability to see a color. Which was also true, considering that he had lost the spectrum of color specific to angelic vision.

Dean was also really hungry, which was stupid because he had eaten before he had gotten on the deathtrap humans used to fly. It had moved so slowly Dean was sure it was going to drop out of the sky.

Then his stop came and Dean was more than pleased to stumble off the dirty bus and into the clinic.

Dean followed the gross science experiments to Pestilence and Cas, opening the door on a scene that was less than encouraging. Cas and Sam were both on the floor, oozing blood and other bodily fluids. Maybe Dean had just enough grace left, or maybe Cas's soul was just that bright, but his human still seemed to glow when he walked in. He also could have been imagining it. He heard humans do that.

“Dean.” Cas gasped, reaching a hand out for him from where he was curled up on the floor.

Pestilence sneered at him. “How'd you get here?”

Dean shrugged, the motion making him nauseous. “Took a bus.” And then he was suddenly losing what was left of his lunch. It turned out that throwing up felt just as gross as it looked.

“Well look at that.” Pestilence cooed, stepping closer and looking at Dean as though he was an extra special science fair exhibit. “There isn't a speck of angel left in you.”

Dean wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like he had seen Cas do before and grabbed Sam's knife. He twisted, moving with a practiced ease that had stayed with him even though he couldn't fly. Maybe his grace wasn't completely gone after all.

“I'd say there was at least a speck.” He told the horseman as all the fingers on his right hand hit the ground, including the ring that the Winchesters were after.

Pestilence hissed, collapsing in on himself. “It's too late.” Dean felt his blood go cold. Or was it Jimmy's blood? It was hard to tell anymore.

Then Dean had his arms full of concerned, fully recovered Cas. The Righteous Man was searching him over as though he thought Dean was hiding a life-ending gash or a stab wound. Dean grabbed a hold of Cas's shoulders, surprised to find that it wasn't as easy as it used to be to hold the human in place.

“Cas, I'm fine.”

Cas gave him a glare that could have set the world on fire. “I thought you were dead.” He repeated as though Dean hadn't heard him on the phone before. For a hysterical moment Dean almost laughed.

“I hate to break up this touching reunion but we're not out of the woods yet.” Sam pointed out, holding up Pestilence's ring. Dean scowled at interrupting kid brothers.

“Bite me, Sammy.”

…

After Castiel had gotten the chance to see that Dean was more or less whole there wasn't really time for a conversation. The most Castiel got was quick, quiet kisses in passing as they planned and loaded the truck full of weapons and argued with the king of the crossroads. Castiel overheard Dean complaining about his human uselessness to Bobby, who gave him a stern talking to about whining, and managed to get Dean alone long enough to kiss him breathless in response after Crowley healed Bobby's legs.

“What was that for?” Dean asked as they broke away.

“For being alive.”

Then they were off and there was no more time. Dean went with Sam and Bobby to stop the Croatoan virus while Castiel took Crowley to meet Death.

…

“Curious,” Death said as Castiel stood up, ring in hand and body thrumming with the need to flee. “don't you think?”

Castiel swallowed roughly. “I'm unsure what you mean.”

“Castiel.” Death said the name slowly, like he was testing every letter and Castiel suddenly felt very small. “It's an Enochian name. And Dean, a human one.”

Castiel licked his lips, nervous too limited of a word for how his body shook. “I don't think it's of import.”

Death gave him a disapproving look. “Everything is of import, Castiel, especially when it doesn't match up.”

“Then I am unsure what it means.”

Death stared at him, expression severe. For a long moment there was silence.

“I suppose you don't.” Death said at last, turning back to his pizza and dismissing Castiel with a flick of his wrist. Castiel didn't have to be dismissed twice.

…

Castiel sat alone in the dark of Bobby's living room with just a half full tumbler of whiskey to keep him company. In the morning Sam would say yes to Lucifer and hopefully win. The apocalypse would end and Castiel would lose the brother he had spent his life protecting. He checked the clock on his cell phone. 2:33. Four hours until dawn. He considered going to bed but he knew he couldn't sleep. He took a sip of his whiskey instead.

Someone stubbed their toe on the corner of the couch. Castiel jumped, turning quickly to look at the figure fumbling around in the dark.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean's silhouette cursed, moving around the arm of the couch to settle down next to Castiel.

Castiel looked down at his drink, taking another sip before leaning forward and setting it on the coffee table. “Can't sleep?” He asked.

Dean didn't reply. Instead an arm snaked around Castiel's shoulders and pulled him against Dean's body. Castiel didn't fight it even though he could. Dean had lost his superhuman strength because of Castiel and he didn't want to remind him. He let the angel – no, ex-angel – settle Castiel against his side and he leaned into the over-warmth Dean still seemed to have. He settled his head on Dean's shoulder, clad only in the black shirt he had given back, and for a moment there was silence.

He wondered about all the things that Dean had lost because of him, all the things he had given up. Obviously Dean could once see in the dark, could have lifted Castiel into the air with one hand, could have flown around the world in a second, could have healed himself, could have banished a demon and fought angels. Now Dean was just a man and Sam was going to the cage. Castiel knew he should have been able to prevent it but now he was out of options. He felt sick with himself over it.

“I'm sorry, Dean.”

“Don't be sorry, Cas.” Dean's voice vibrated through his chest. “If I had to go back and do it again I'd still choose you in a heartbeat.”

Castiel's fingers moved to absentmindedly play with the hem of Dean's shirt. Silence fell again and Castiel could feel Dean press his face into his dark hair.

The darkness and silence made everything feel possible. Bobby's house was asleep, though Castiel couldn't actually be sure that Bobby and Sam were actually sleeping. Still, the illusion of it made Castiel bold and he spoke his curiosities to the darkness.

“Are we in a relationship, Dean?”

Dean chuckled, the movement pleasant against Castiel's side and cheek. “If we are it's not very conventional. Most people don't try to kill their boyfriend's brothers.”

Castiel winced at that. “I'm sorry."

“It's okay, they deserve it.” Dean's far shoulder jerked in a one-sided shrug.

Castiel put his hand over Dean's heart and lifted his head so he could look Dean in the face. Dean let him move, his arm sliding down Castiel's back like water. The Winchester expected to see a soft glow coming from Dean's eyes but there was nothing. Dean was painfully human, the ever present glow diminished. Castiel felt lost without the green light staring at him.

“What are we, Dean?” He asked again, suddenly desperate for a straight answer.

There was a moment of silence. In the darkness Castiel wondered if he had pushed too far, if Dean's deflection was a warning instead of an attempt to lighten the mood. Then Dean's hand covered Castiel's on his chest, squeezing before trailing up his arm in a line of heat.

“I don't know what we are, Cas.” Dean's voice was filled with truth. He reached Castiel's shoulder and squeezed over the mark he had left there almost two years before. “But I know that I'm your angel, no matter what happens to me. I will always come when you call.”

Castiel suddenly felt very small, drowning in Dean's plainly stated devotion. “Dean.” His voice came out pained, not sure what he meant to convey.

“I know.” Dean sounded as though he was smiling.

Castiel didn't know who moved first but suddenly their lips were pressed together, hot and hungry. One of Dean's hands was still positioned possessively over his mark and the other was tangled in the back of Castiel's shaggy hair. Castiel had one hand in a death grip around the back of Dean's neck, desperate not to let him go, while the other found Dean's hipbone. It was maddening that Castiel was allowed to have his angel, even if there was a good chance that one or both of them would die in the morning. For just a moment Castiel had Dean and all his insanity. He intended to use it.

He released Dean's hip and reached up to grab the back of the couch on the other side of Dean's head. Using it as leverage he swung himself over Dean until he was straddling his angel's lap. Dean jumped and groaned into the kiss when the motion brushed up against the bulge in the front of his jeans. Castiel rocked forward, gripping the sides of Dean's face with both hands. Dean groaned again, the sound more urgent, and his hands slid down Castiel's back in a line of fire.

Castiel rocked forward again as Dean's hands slid under the hem of his shirt and gripped his bare skin above the waistband of his jeans. His touch was like lightning and lava, his grip bruising. The kiss, a furious meeting of mouths filled with the needy sounds and desperate tongue and teeth, broke off as Dean gasped. Castiel dove to the spot underneath Dean's jaw, worrying the skin between his teeth. The angel, because he promised he would always be an angel, lifted his chin to give Castiel more access, his hands trailing up Castiel's spine under his shirt. Castiel thought his skin would burn off and split under Dean's hands.

“Cas.” Dean begged as Castiel set a rhythm with his hips. Castiel broke off from Dean's neck.

“Yes, Dean?” He panted, his voice coming out rough. Dean shivered beneath him, his hands sliding down Castiel's back faster than the human could blink and settled on the back of his thighs. Then, with a heave, Dean dumped Castiel on the couch, his back against the couch cushions and the angel between his legs.

In their new position it was Dean who rutted down against Castiel and tore a choked off cry of need from him. Dean nibbled down the column of his throat between words, rocking into Castiel steadily.

“I'm an angel, not a china doll.”

Castiel wrapped his legs around Deans hips and moved up to meet him in response. They both gasped.

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel rumbled, his breath hitching at the end. Dean shivered, biting down on Castiel's collarbone.

Castiel wished they had time to explore each other, to feel each other out and lay each other open. But Bobby's couch was too narrow, they barely fit, and dawn would bring about the end of the world. Castiel wanted forever but he knew there was a good chance he only got that night. In desperation he grabbed Dean's face and pulled him into another bruising kiss. He wondered if his lips would be swollen in the morning.

They moved together, Dean's hands tracing Castiel's sides and Castiel gripping onto the body above him like a lifeline. They held on to each other until white flashed behind Castiel's eyes and he swore he could see Dean's wings, though that might have been his imagination. Dean cried out above him, loud enough to wake the others, but Castiel didn't care.

When Castiel came down he was drowsy. Somehow they had turned over so that Dean was taking most of Castiel's weight, his back cushioned against the back of the couch. Castiel tried to shift away, not wanting to crush Dean, but the angel had wrapped an arm around his waist and held him in place.

“Don't move yet.” Dean whispered into his forehead.

Castiel didn't argue, Dean was warm and comfortable. Without meaning to he slipped into sleep.

…

Dean woke up in the back of the Impala with a start, his hands shaking. He hadn't slept at Bobby's, hadn't thought he needed to sleep, but at some point he passed out on the ride to confront Lucifer. Dean was gasping for breath and staring around only to find that the Impala had stopped. Cas and his brother were outside, talking to Bobby. Even without his angel senses he could see something different about Sam, like his skin was darker. Dean climbed out of the car and the Winchesters looked over to him.

Cas and Sam had on identical expressions of sad fondness when they looked at him. Dean scowled.

“What are you looking at?”

Cas didn't reply but his eyes grew softer. Sam stepped forward, holding out a hand for Dean to shake. Dean recognized it as a final goodbye, which was not gonna fly with him. He pulled the giant man into a hug, Sam making a sound of surprise. When Dean pulled back Sam met his eyes.

“Take care of my brother.”

Dean scoffed. “Only with every bone in my body.” Sam laughed, sounding refreshed at Dean's attitude. Dean couldn't help the softness that came into his features or the painful thump of his borrowed heart. “You're a good brother, Sammy.”

Sam looked like he was about to cry. “Thanks.” He choked out. Dean swallowed nervously, clasping Sam on the shoulder and moving to stand with Cas.

He grabbed his human's hand and squeezed it. “You gonna be okay?” He asked, voice low as Sam said his goodbyes to Bobby.

Cas gave a shaky sigh. “Probably not.”

Dean just nodded. Cas looked up at him, his expression unreadable for a second. He gave Dean a quick kiss on the lips before moving to join Sam.

“We'll be back.” He promised.

Dean watched as the Winchesters walked away and fought the sudden need to grab them both and fly away, even if he couldn't actually fly.

…

Sam had failed and all Dean could do was hold a broken Cas in his arms and watch the television. Cas's legs were thrown over Dean's lap and his head was tucked into the crook of Dean's shoulder. He held on as though Dean was the only thing stopping him from sliding to the floor.

“It's starting.” Cas said, voice echo-y and numb. Dean ran his hand in circles on his human's back, at a loss for how to help.

“You think?” Bobby grumbled, downing another shot of whatever the fuck he was drinking. Cas stiffened in his arms and Dean shot Bobby a glare.

“You don't have to be mean about it.”

Bobby scowled back.

“What do we do now?” Cas asked the room at large, his voice a little less lost.

“Drink til we're sick and drink some more.” Bobby recommended.

Cas sat up a little in Dean's arms. Dean could practically feel Cas's brain working, refusing to accept the end. That was Cas to a fault, always fighting. “I mean, how do we stop it?”

“We don't.” Dean said, reciting the prophecy. “Lucifer will meet Michael on the chosen field and the battle of Armageddon begins.

Cas leaned back and fixed Dean with a stare. “Where's the chosen field?”

“I don't know.” Dean answered honestly. Cas frowned and Dean knew that expression. His heart sank.

“There must be something we can do.”

“Cas...” Dean warned. Getting between two archangels was the stupidest plan Dean had ever heard and he was the king of stupid plans. He was the one who came up with the idea to carve a banishing symbol on his own chest, made the bright choice to face down Raphael alone, and put all his chips on his absent Father. Needless to say, none of those ended well.

Cas ignored him, scrambling up and out of his lap, fishing through the pockets of the old trench coat on the coat hanger for his cell phone.

“Cas.” He tried again, but his human ignored him. Instead he called the prophet.

Five minutes later Cas was pulling on his coat and grabbing his keys.

“You going someplace?” Bobby demanded.

Cas fixed Bobby with a piercing blue stare. “I'm going to talk to Sam.” He said, his voice daring Bobby to argue.

Bobby grumbled. “You just don't give up.” Cas narrowed his eyes.

“It's Sam.”

“Cas, it's a lost cause.” Dean kept his voice gentle.

Cas turned his glare on Dean. “If I've already lost then I have nothing left to lose.”

Dean flinched away from that, hurt erupting in his chest. Of course, why did he think it meant anything to Cas? He was still and single-minded like the angels.

Cas's eyes grew wide. “Dean-”

“I just want you to understand that the only thing you're gonna see out there are archangels killing your brother.” Dean spat, talking over him.

For a moment Dean expected his wings to snap open and take him away but they did nothing because they didn't exist. Instead he was forced to stand up and stalk away, Cas's apologies sliding off his back.

…

Castiel had always had a weakness for a good entrance. He rolled all his windows down and turned the Impala's radio up as loud as it would go, Def Leppard vibrating the entire car.

Lucifer and Michael did not appreciate it. Their loss.

For a moment Castiel seriously considered the idea that he had gone crazy. Dean's retreating back was beating behind his eyelids when he blinked along with Lucifer wearing Sam's face. It was a mural of things Castiel wasn't allowed to keep. It was enough to drive him insane.

“We need to talk.” Castiel told Sam, hands shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. Lucifer laughed back at him.

“Even for you this is a whole new mountain of stupid.”

“I'm not talking to you.” Castiel said, the ice in his veins keeping him calm. “I'm talking to Sam. I just need five minutes.”

“You little maggot.” Michael in Adam's body hissed. “You're no longer part of this story.”

Castiel turned icy eyes onto his youngest brother. “I said I'm not talking to you, assbutt.”

“Head's up!” Shouted a voice Castiel didn't think he would get the chance to hear again. Castiel whipped his head around just in time to see Dean throw a Molotov cocktail at Michael. Adam's body went up in flames.

Dean was grinning like a fool, green eyes on Castiel. “You've got your five minutes, assbutt.” Dean called to him. Bobby stood behind the angel with a pained expression on his face, as though he didn't want to be there.

Castiel didn't know what had changed Dean's mind to the point of grinning or why he had brought Bobby along. He didn't get the chance to ask, either.

“Dean, did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?” Lucifer asked, fury boiling in his voice.

Dean rolled his eyes, oddly brash for facing down an archangel. Just a few hours before he had been cowering at the idea of it. “Nope.”

“No one dicks with Michael but me.” Sam's voice hissed but it was Lucifer who snapped his fingers.

Then Dean was gone. His body shattered, there was no other word for it. Bits of Dean few apart in an instant, there wasn't even enough time for Dean's expression to change. One second Dean was there and the next he was a splatter on the ground, bits of him landing on Castiel's face. For a long second there was only white noise in his ears.

“No.” He whispered, more to himself than to anyone else. Bobby stepped forward with a shotgun and got his neck broken for it.

At the sound of Bobby's neck breaking all the sound came back to Castiel's world. “No!” He shouted too late. He turned to Sam, Lucifer, who was stalking towards him.

“Sammy, can you hear me?” He begged.

“You are such a pain in my ass.” Lucifer snarled with Sam's face, driving his fist into Cas's body.

“Sam, are you in there?” Castiel gasped.

“He's in here. And he's going to feel you die.” Lucifer growled back, punctuating every word with a blow.

Castiel's bones broke and he gasped for air. It was over. Dean was gone and Sam was well on hiss way to killing Castiel. It was over, yet he didn't feel helpless.

He grabbed a hold of his brother's jacket as Lucifer slammed him into the side of the Impala. “I'm here, Sammy.” He coughed. “I'm not going to leave you.”

Just like that Sam stopped, a change working over his face. “I've got him, Cas. It's gonna be okay.”

And then everything happened quickly.

Michael appeared, Sam opened the cage, and they were both falling. Before Castiel could comprehend it his bothers were both gone.

It was over and Castiel felt helpless.

…

Dean was floating. He was gone, dust in the wind. He was empty space and blackness. He was nothing.

He missed Cas.

And then he wasn't nothing anymore.

Dean flexed his wings and looked down at his hands. They were strange, Jimmy's hands. They had gone through so much and still they retained their shape. Angelic power thrummed through him, causing his vessel's skin glow, and he looked to Cas with his restored eyes.

Cas was on the ground, bloody and swollen. He was staring at a fixed point on the ground and shaking, his soul in anguish. Cas believed he was completely alone.

Well that wouldn't do.

With a beat of his wings he closed the space between them. He moved so fast he almost stumbled when he landed except that the power itself caught him. The amount of power was unbelievable, way more than he had before. It made his head spin. Slowly, Cas looked up at him.

“Dean?” He asked, voice rough and disbelieving. “You're alive?”

“Better.” Dean replied, his voice sounding odd and far away. He reached toward Cas, touching him lightly on the face and healing every impurity he found on his body. Except, of course, his mark. Dean wasn't going to let Cas go that easily.

Cas stood slowly, his eyes wide and fixed on Dean as though seeing him for the first time.

“Are you God?” The mistrust in his voice hurt dimly but the feeling was far away.

“Of course not.” He said. Dean felt like he was floating. He turned, walking down the length of the Impala and repairing it as he did so. Cas watched with guarded eyes, though for the life of him Dean didn't know how he knew that.

It was then that Dean started to feel the energy drain. The overflow of power was slipping away as he used it. With the power went the buffer between him and reality that seemed to have popped up out of no where. Dean leaned down and touched Bobby, healing him and dragging his soul back to his body. The amount of energy it took was immense. He still felt too powerful to be himself but some of the cottony feeling had disappeared. Bobby opened his eyes and stared at Dean as though he had seen a ghost. Somewhere in the back of his mind Dean pointed out that he had.

Dean still had enough energy to disconnect him from the world. He turned and stared back at Cas. The Righteous Man stared back, his face ashen and his expression tight. It occurred to Dean that if the power was his legacy there was one more thing he could give to Cas before all his energy was gone and he returned to the nothingness.

“I'll be back.” He said, his voice still thrumming distantly. “Stay here.” Then he took flight.

…

Castiel didn't move, he couldn't. He had just seen a creature who looked like Dean but couldn't be Dean revive him, his car, and Bobby without so much as blinking. The Dean doppelganger had glowed, eyes like green spotlights and skin back-lit like a television. His voice had echoed like something out of a movie and for a moment Castiel had thought God had stolen his angel's body to talk. But then Dean had told him he wasn't God and demanded that he stay.

So Castiel stayed. Because if there was any chance that the creature who had healed him was Dean then he owed him. He owed his angel everything. He owed him for the things he had said at the end of the world and for bringing back Bobby. So he stayed.

It took a week. Bobby came and went, brought him food and changes of clothes. Castiel slept in the Impala and ignored Bobby's attempts to make him leave the cemetery. He didn't care if it was creepy, he was supposed to stay.

Then, with the sound of wings and the smell of burnt skin, Dean landed and a huge familiar form landed on top of him.

There was shouting, some of it by Castiel, but in the end the man sat up.

He was naked and ripped up, his hair was a mess and he was bleeding badly, but it was Sam. He looked panicked, shoving Dean's passed out form away and scrambling to hide between two tombstones. Castiel followed his brother, holding his hands out like he would for a spooked animal. Slowly but surely he managed to pull Sam into his arms like he did when they were children. Sam was at least four inches taller and much bigger around, but it was still his little brother. His very much alive little brother.

Castiel wasn't ashamed to admit that he cried.

…

Dean had a headache the size of the grand canyon and he was going to kill whatever was making that beeping sound. With his bare hands. It would be very satisfying.

With a groan he cracked his eyes open and was met with way too much white. He shut his eyes again, hard. Screw that.

“He's coming to, go get my brother.” Someone said to his left. There was the sound of footsteps retreating and Dean really wished the world wasn't so noisy. It was making his head split.

Then there were more footsteps, faster and coming closer this time. Someone was running towards him and Dean's body braced for impact, his eyes opening to assess the threat automatically.

That shit was bright.

He groaned, slamming his eyes shut again.

“Dean.” An out a breath voice called to him. It was like whiskey over gravel and it made Dean's body shiver in recognition. There was something important about that voice.

And then it all came rushing back.

“Cas.” Dean cried forcing his eyes to stay open this time. Cas's bedhead was dark against the brightness of the hospital room, his eyes a deep blue that couldn't be found anywhere else in nature. He reached for Cas's form, forgetting everything else for a long moment, but something stuck in his arm stopped his motion. Cas grabbed Dean's hands and held them close to Dean's chest.

“Don't do that, you'll pull out the IV.”

“What happened?”

“You don't remember?” Dean turned towards the familiar voice from before to see Sam. The huge man looked even bigger in the flimsy hospital chair and other than the dark circles under his eyes he looked healthy. He didn't look at all like he had been in hell.

Dean licked his lips and tried to think through the headache. “I don't think so.”

Sam grinned at him. “You came and got me.”

“I pulled you out of hell?”

“Yes.” Cas answered, pulling Dean's attention back to his human. “I still need to thank you for that, among other things.” Dean blinked. He could have sworn by the expression on his face and the tone of his voice that Cas was using innuendo.

“Oh, gross, I told you I didn't want to hear about that.” Sam wrinkled his nose. “Your sex life is not a topic of discussion.”

Cas raised an eyebrow at Sam. “I said nothing about sex, but now that you mention it I would also greatly enjoy intercourse.”

Sam made a gagging sound. Dean frowned.

“I though heaven did greatest hits, not new singles.”

The Winchesters both smiled at him, twin expressions of fond sadness. “You're not dead, Dean.”

“I didn't die?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Dean tried to digest that information.

“You are completely human as far as we can tell though.” Sam said, his voice apologetic. Dean tried to stretch his wings. They moved but they were ruined, ripped to bits. He would probably never fly again.

“Looks like it.” He agreed, not sure how he felt about his ruined wings yet.

Cas looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

Dean carefully reached up and took a hold of his face. The day old stubble that never seemed to go away was rough under his fingers. It felt like home.

“I will be.” He promised, pulling Cas down into a kiss. Cas hummed in approval, Sam made little brother sounds of protests, and somewhere near the door way a grouchy old man voice sounded exasperated.

“Idjits.”


End file.
